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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050447">Crash and Burn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod/pseuds/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod'>shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ahem unlike in canon, Airplane Crashes, Amnesia, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean doesn't lose all his memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Past trauma actually gets discussed, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, So don't worry he isn't starting from scratch, Temporary Amnesia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:53:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>81,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod/pseuds/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean always hated flying. But after Sam gets injured on a hunt, Dean is forced to fly out of New York alone. It shouldn't be a big deal, right? Aside from the fact that thirty minutes into the flight, the engines decide to give out. The crash that follows leaves Dean in a coma with a nasty prognosis, one that Sam is unable to simply stitch up. Eventual amnesia fic.</p>
<p>Story is complete! Updates Thursdays (and Sundays if time allows).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Castiel &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm super happy to be finally getting this story up on AO3! It's already complete over on my <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12611326/1/Crash-and-Burn">fanfiction</a> but I'm editing the chapters as I go to repost it here. Good news is you guys won't have to wait for updates! I'm shooting for Thursdays for sure, with an extra on on Sundays if time allows for me to get the edits done.</p>
<p>A note on timelines: This story is set in season 12, but there's no Mary, and the British Men of Letters are trying to be nice (ie no kidnapping and torturing Sam). I needed a season where there was no apocalypse on the horizon and the brothers were on the same team, so voila!</p>
<p>I hope you guys enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>November 9, 6:00pm</em>
</p>
<p>Dean took the drive back to the bunker a bit slower than he normally would. There was less music and less muttering about incompetent drivers and less tires bouncing into potholes. Conversely, there were more glances towards Sam, whose head was leaned up against the window. His torso was rigid and upright, leaving his neck being the only twisted part, and Dean knew that it would be sore later. Still, it must have been better than twisting the rest of his chest.</p>
<p>“You’re staring again,” Sam commented as Dean’s eyes quickly went back to the road. The younger man’s eyes were closed, and there was a slight smirk on his lips.</p>
<p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean replied simply, and shrugged.</p>
<p>“Mhm.” There was nothing else said for a few more minutes until Dean’s driving slowed down even more. “We there?”</p>
<p>“Yep, bunker sweet bunker,” Dean nodded, turning the Impala into the bunker’s garage and parking it before shutting it off.</p>
<p>“Good. I need to get this…hospital stink off me,” Sam said, glad the vehicle had stopped, and reached for the handle.</p>
<p>Dean was faster however, getting out of the car and opening Sam’s door before he could twist fully to get it open. “Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales. Showers can wait,” he reminded</p>
<p>“Dean, I’m fine, seriously,” Sam fought back, trying to bite back a wince as he got up and out of the car. He didn’t try hiding it behind a smile, Dean knew how crappy he was feeling. The day spent passed out in the car proved as much.</p>
<p>Of course, the older brother wasn’t expecting too much out of the younger one, considering they had just gotten out of the hospital after staying there for three whole nights. It had been a rare, multi-day trip to the stark white and antiseptic drenched place that both of them hated more than they probably should have.</p>
<p>“As soon as those pain meds wear off, we’ll see. Shower, food, meds, bed,” Dean said, leaving no place for an argument.</p>
<p>They both walked slowly back inside the bunker, Sam’s face a shade paler by the time they reached the library. His breathing was a bit more labored, considering the extensive work that had been done on his entire chest area.</p>
<p>Dean had made a slight mental note that werewolf cases were to be avoided and sent to someone else if possible for the next few months. Less than a year after the last…bad one, there had been another. Another crazy werewolf with a gun, another bullet in Sam’s chest, and another too close call that Dean would rather not think about extensively.</p>
<p>“Call life alert if you slip,” Dean quirked a smile at Sam, who was making his way down to his room.</p>
<p>“Call a fireman if you burn down the kitchen,” came the slightly slow reply. Still, Dean kept the smile on his face as he went into the kitchen to make something Sam would take with his meds. He was beat, of course, and could use a shower himself to get off the overly clean, starchy smell. But food came first so Sam could take his meds and go to sleep hopefully without incident.</p>
<p>He made the food robotically, just glad for a task to get his mind off of everything else that had recently transpired. By the time it was done and Dean made his way back into Sam’s room, he was already sitting up in bed with his laptop on. He was in grey sweatpants and a light shirt, his go to when he wasn’t feeling up to much else, and his hair was still wet.</p>
<p>Dean shot him a <em>‘really’? </em>look, a bit displeased and annoyed as he carried in the tray of food and swapped it out with the laptop, which Sam replied to with a bitchface of his own.</p>
<p>“No research. Food, meds, bed,” Dean instructed.</p>
<p>“First, it was emails,” Sam mentioned, shaking his head a bit at Dean’s continued ‘feel better faster’ lists. “And, kind of important ones too.” He gestured with the fork towards the laptop.</p>
<p>Dean pulled up Sam’s desk chair and kicked his feet up on Sam’s bed, reading through the email. It was from Mick Davies, who was reminding them about the meeting with the other British Men of Letters in London in four days. Sam had agreed to go, and Dean had been thinking about it because…flying. It had never been his thing, and it would never be his thing. But he didn’t trust the Brits and certainly didn’t want Sam alone on their home turf, so he would end up going one way or another.</p>
<p>“And?” Dean prompted, finishing reading through the lengthy reminder.</p>
<p>“Click up on the next one,” Sam instructed, taking another bite as he waited for Dean to finish reading. “I told him we probably couldn’t make it, and he said that this was literally the only time that everyone could meet. Apparently they’re bringing in the…big guys to talk through this attempted team up with us and a few other hunters from different states. It’s happening, and they need us to be there,” he paraphrased.</p>
<p>“Well, you’re not going,” Dean answered quickly, looking over the computer at his brother. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Dean held up a hand. “You were shot twice in the chest just a few days ago. Get some rest, binge some shows, I got this one. I can handle a merger with a bunch of fancy suits.”</p>
<p>“I was fine on the drive here, which takes longer than a flight out, and you and flying, don’t…really mix.”</p>
<p>“You half slept, half sat in pain the entire way over,” Dean reminded. “And I’ve gotten better with flying,” he added defensively.</p>
<p>That time, Sam hit him with the ‘<em>really?’ </em>look. “You can count how many times you’ve been flying on one hand, Dean.”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Dean raised a hand and closed the laptop. “New experiences, get above five and everything. But you’re not going. And we’re not leaving the fate of the United States’ hunters as we know them up to some yahoos that may or may not have been keyed into the apocalypse. I’m going, Sam, no arguing.”</p>
<p>It took a few moments, but Sam eventually went to sigh, winced, and finally nodded. “You do know you have to leave tomorrow then?”</p>
<p>Tomorrow? Right, of course, travel took time, and he should probably drive east first to have the shortest flight time possible. Maybe he’d head to New York…or some other east coast city. Gosh, he had to start planning. And he would have to pack and how the hell would he be getting any of his weapons with him? “Course I do,” he replied matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>Sam let out a light scoff and shook his head.</p>
<p>“It’ll be fine, Sam,” Dean shook his head back and got up, leaving the laptop sitting on the chair. “Get some shut eye.” He picked up the empty plate and tapped out two pills, handing them to Sam with a glass of water, both of which he took.</p>
<p>It was obvious from the lack of response that Sam didn’t like Dean going off alone just as much as Dean liked the idea of Sam doing the same. There was a quiet “night” as Dean shut off the light to the room and left the door cracked open.</p>
<p>It was so Dean could hear in case Sam needed something, but also so that there wasn’t a solid divide between them after the past few days. The days which Dean shoved out of his head and down the list of things to think about. He had to clean up the kitchen, shower, pack a bit, and figure out how to book a flight.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>November 9, 11:00pm</em>
</p>
<p>The first three were accomplished rather easily, and Dean’s hair was still damp as he settled into one of the chairs in the library and began looking at flights. From New York to London, it took around seven hours to fly. Seven hours in a pressurized capsule thousands of feet above the ground, he could do it, sure. Dean shook his head again and booked the first direct flight closest to the Brit’s location as he could find. There was no sense in thinking about it more than he had to.</p>
<p>Driving, which was something he preferred any day of the week, would take around a day in itself, minus pit stops and a night at a motel. Two days of travel, one hopefully random day in London, a meeting the next, and home on the first red-eye out. Then a drive back. In total, he was looking at nearly a week of being gone. Which was nearly a week in which Sam would be by himself, still on the mend…</p>
<p>Dean didn’t even think twice before pulling out his phone and calling Cas. He sat there for a few rings, muttering that the angel had better freaking pick up, before the line connected.</p>
<p>“Hello?” came the gravely voice on the other end of the line.</p>
<p>“Hey, Cas, you got a sec?”</p>
<p>There was some shifting on the other end of the line. “Dean? Of course, how’s Sam?”</p>
<p>“Snug as a bug in a rug,” Dean smirked absently.</p>
<p>“I don’t…” Cas trailed off and Dean could practically picture the angel trying to figure out how a bug could be snug while inside of a rug.</p>
<p>“It’s a saying—you know what, never mind. We’re both in the bunker, he’s all doped up,” Dean exaggerated, “everything’s good.”</p>
<p>“Well, that is good to hear. I was getting worried.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “I woulda called earlier, but we had to get back. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask, you busy for the next week or so?”</p>
<p>“Not…particularly. I was tracking a demon, but another hunter took care of it. I was on my way back. Why?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got this…meeting with the Brits.” Gosh, even saying the idea out loud sounded awful. “But it’s on their home turf. Some…amicable way we can all work together or something. Sam can’t go, and it would help if someone were here to watch out for him and keep an eye on the bunker.”</p>
<p>There was more rustling, which he guessed was Cas nodding. “Of course, Dean. I can make it there later tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Later tomorrow, probably after Dean had left, so…a few hours of leaving Sam alone. That should be fine, it would have to be, anyways. “Yeah, that works,” was his short reply.</p>
<p>“I’ll leave tonight. Driving is still…less preferable to flying,” Cas commented, which elicited a slight scoff on Dean’s part.</p>
<p>“Whatever you say,” he nodded although no one could see. “And Cas? Thanks, sorry about the short notice.”</p>
<p>“It is no problem, Dean,” the angel assured. “We will keep in contact.”</p>
<p>“Yep. Sounds good. Night, Cas.” With that, Dean ended the call and put the phone next to the laptop. He ran a hand through his hair and checked the time, figuring that he should try to get some rest, given he wouldn’t be sleeping much over the next few days.</p>
<p>With the flight booked, things packed, and nerves more or less on edge, Dean shut the laptop and headed off to try and get some sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back! Thanks to you all for reading so far, extra thanks to those of you that left comments, they made my day, I love hearing what you have to say :) This story takes a few chapters to set up but once it gets going, there's no going back, so maybe enjoy the downtime while it lasts haha. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>November 10, 8:30am</em>
</p>
<p>“Dude, seriously?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Sam, seriously.”</p>
<p>“Why the hell not?”</p>
<p>“Because-“ Dean cut himself off, closing the door to the car after he had thrown his carry on in the back seat, “no way in hell am I leaving her in an airport parking lot in New York for a few days. No way.”</p>
<p>He had made the executive decision to not take Baby with him to the airport, which meant no cassette tape deck for music and no familiar car, but it was better than having her get broken into or scratched up or have something else preventable happen.</p>
<p>“Are you absolutely positive? I’m fine with other cars.”</p>
<p>Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head. “Yeah, you’re fine with other cars, but you’re not driving in your condition, so it doesn’t matter. I’m taking a back-up, end of story,” Dean said, his tone conveying that the argument was closed.</p>
<p>He began walking back into the bunker from the garage, but not so fast that Sam couldn’t walk beside him comfortably.</p>
<p>“Okay, if you won’t take the Impala, at least take this,” Sam said when they got back to the map room. He picked up Dean’s phone from the table and a set of earbuds and passed them over.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I was planning on taking my phone,” Dean nodded slowly, not seeing what he was getting at.</p>
<p>Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. “And music. I loaded a bunch of songs I could find on there for you to listen to.”</p>
<p>He didn’t say that it was to combat the flying anxiety, since humming was what had calmed him down last time. He didn’t say that it was to make the whole experience easier and to make up for his own absence in it. But both of those sentiments were reflected in the otherwise simple sounding explanation.</p>
<p>“I mean, they’re not cassette tapes, but I know how you hate all the new music on the radio,” he halfheartedly explained.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, but he quirked his brother an appreciative smile anyways and slipped the items into his jacket pockets. He had holy water, salt, and some other small necessities, but he couldn’t bring any of the big guns with him. He was just hoping that there were no demons planning on derailing the flight this time.</p>
<p>Dean rolled up his sleeve to check his watch and nodded. “Should probably hit the road, got a long while until there’s a good stopping point. This sounds like fun already,” Dean muttered.</p>
<p>Sam only nodded. “Text me when you’re at the airport and when you land,” Sam reminded, as if Dean had forgotten the first five times he had told him.</p>
<p>“Will do. Flight 523, from New York to London, leaves at six in the afternoon,” Dean informed. “I put it on a little sticky note by the computer in case your lazy brain forgets,” he added with a smirk. “And Cas texted, said he should be here in six hours or so. You good?” Dean asked, eyes leveling with Sam.</p>
<p>“I can handle myself for six hours, Dean, I’m not doing much.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded back and sighed. “Well alright then. I guess I’ll see you in a few days.” Normally, there would have been a quick send off hug or something, but given Sam’s injury, he opted to put a hand on his shoulder and smile before he dropped it and turned to leave.</p>
<p>“Watch yourself,” Sam added.</p>
<p>“Always do, Sammy, it’s just a pressurized flying tube, no big deal,” Dean brushed off, sending him another look before he started the walk back down to the garage.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dean was used to taking back roads, so the beginning half of his drive wasn’t too bad. He ended up turning on the radio for an hour or so to see what he could get, and sure, some of the music was decent, but it wasn’t the same. He eventually gave up and put his phone in the cup holder, playing some of the tunes that Sam had thankfully downloaded.</p>
<p>At his first pit stop six hours later, he texted to make sure Sam was okay, and after being assured that he was and the car again had gas, Dean was back on the lonely road. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, it was just…strange. He so often travelled with Sam or Cas that having the passenger seat empty was odd and empty.</p>
<p>Then again, Sam being a passenger the last two times hadn’t exactly been easy, it had taken Dean hours to get the blood off the seats…</p>
<p>He cranked the music up again. He didn’t need to think about that any more, Sam was fine, he was always fine, he would always be fine as long as Dean could make sure of it. He completed the next six hour leg with that mentality in mind.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>November 10, 11:30pm</em>
</p>
<p>“Not interrupting any beauty sleep am I?” Dean asked once he had stopped at a motel for the night, and kicked his boots up onto the bed.</p>
<p>“Dude, it’s only eleven, I’m not a kid anymore,” Sam shot back, but Dean could hear the smile in his voice.</p>
<p>“I told Cas to put you to bed by ten.”</p>
<p>There was some rustling on the other end of the line, and a slightly more gravely voice replied, “you did no such thing when we last talked…or texted, I am fairly certain nothing was said about bed times.”</p>
<p>“Just no staying up into the morning painting fingernails and braiding Sam’s hair.”</p>
<p>“I don’t own any…Sam do you own any nail polish?”</p>
<p>Dean let out an audible laugh, able to picture the angel’s confused face as he looked to his brother, who was undoubtedly smiling and faintly laughing as much as he could.</p>
<p>“Got it Dean, quit mother henning and get some sleep.”</p>
<p>“I’m not mother henning,” Dean shot back, trying his best to sound offended. “You’re the one telling me to go to sleep.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, watch your drive,” Sam said, sighing, and Dean could guess he was rolling his eyes along with it.</p>
<p>“Will do, I’ll text when I get there. You two hold down the fort, no kitchen experiments,” Dean reminded with mild seriousness.</p>
<p>“I assure you, we will be doing no kitchen experiments,” Cas added in complete seriousness.</p>
<p>Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, I’ll text, night.” Similar sentiments were exchanged, and Dean shut the phone off, leaving it on the nightstand next to the bed.</p>
<p>Of course, his eyes drifted to the other bed closer to the bathroom, which was empty. The motel didn’t have any single beds for some reason. And the empty bed only served to remind Dean of more what ifs…</p>
<p>He shut off the light, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes, but the empty bed kept mocking him, even though he had just gotten off the phone with his brother.</p>
<p>It was going to be a long few days.</p>
<hr/>
<p>In the end, Dean drove the last nine or so hours going on two hours of sleep, which was far from desirable. However, being stuck in New York traffic did make him appreciate the open roads much more. Even just an hour spent in wall to wall cars getting to the airport was enough to have him mentally and sometimes physically yelling at the idiots around him.</p>
<p>By the time he got out of the car and slung his bag over his shoulder, he was thoroughly done with the day. And he hadn’t even gotten through security or to the terminal yet. Or hell, even inside the airport. And it was raining. He probably should have expected it from New York, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t annoying.</p>
<p>He did a quick check to make sure the holy water and salt were still in the bag, which they were. The Brits would have weapons and they boasted about London being safe, so he probably wouldn’t need them, but probably was still a maybe. Dean carefully rolled up the headphones and stuck them in his jacket pocket, even though they would probably get all tangled up anyways.</p>
<p>And he still had four hours before his flight was supposed to leave.</p>
<p>Dean ran a hand over his face. “This meeting had better be worth it,” he muttered as he locked up the car and made his way into the airport.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Truth be told, Dean grumbled most of the way through the airport. He’d never admit it to Sam, of course, but there was nothing fun about taking off his shoes and all the metal on him and standing and waiting in lines…it seemed to go on and on. Then he had to sit down with his bag and re-lace his boots, which was just another annoyance to add to the list. He finally made his way over to the terminal, and with two hours to spare, grabbed an overpriced coffee from the shop inside and picked out a seat by the window of his terminal.</p>
<p>The rain hadn’t let up any, but it was New York, and pretty much always rained, at least Dean thought so anyways. It had been years since he’d been to the big city itself and not any of the smaller provinces inside the state for a case. Surprise, surprise, werewolf packs and other fuglies tended to stay away from high rises and bustling cities if they could help it.</p>
<p>Dean sat in the terminal for a solid hour and drank his coffee, which didn’t help with the jitteriness, and his leg was practically vibrating as he bounced it up and down. “Come on,” he muttered and looked at his watch before he leaned his head back and sighed. Half an hour. Could time possibly move any slower?</p>
<p>Dean eventually decided that his coffee cup needed throwing away, which gave him something to do, and he stole a glance at the board listing all his flights. “You have got to be freaking kidding me,” he complained, shoulders physically crumpling a bit at the sight.</p>
<p>Next to the listing for flight 523 was a red notice ‘delayed one hour’ spread out on the board, as was the same with many of the other flights. Dean set his jaw and shook his head before he made his way back over to the window and plopped into his seat. He got busy calling Sam before he could think any more on the matter.</p>
<p>“Dean,” Sam greeted after a few rings. He still sounded a bit winded, but there was a some of relief in his voice. “What’s up? Getting ready to board?”</p>
<p>“Opposite actually,” Dean muttered and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “They’ve got the flight and a whole bunch of others delayed for an hour, probably because of weather or something, so I’m stuck here.”</p>
<p>“Weather?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s raining pretty good. But it is New York after all, right?”</p>
<p>“I…I guess. But man, flights get delayed all the time for weather, it’s no big deal.” There was no hint of mocking in the tone, it was simply an assurance from a thousand or so miles away.</p>
<p>Because Dean didn’t like flying, period. He had no control, it was simple. In the car, he always had some form of control over what was happening. Usually in hunts, the same was true. With flying, every single aspect of the trip was up to someone else besides himself.</p>
<p>So yeah, a simple hour delay due to weather was enough to set his leg bouncing up and down again to no avail.</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” Dean grumbled, but quirked a small smirk at the masked assurance. “Just calling to let you know. We should get up on time, hopefully. I’ll text you from the air. But if they try keeping me in the airport overnight, I’m hauling ass back to Kansas,” he threatened the airport itself.</p>
<p>Sam chuckled a bit on the other end of the line, which turned into some light coughing and had Dean’s smirk fading from his face. “How about you? Cas isn’t working you too hard, I hope.”</p>
<p>“He went out to pick up some food, actually. We forgot to do a run before we left, he should be back soon,” Sam said simply.</p>
<p>“And?” Dean prompted.</p>
<p>“And what? That’s a collective we, Dean, <em>we </em>forgot to get food, it’s on both of us.”</p>
<p>“You know what I mean,” Dean muttered back and shook his head.</p>
<p>Sam took another moment to reply, but Dean could basically hear him vaguely nodding along. “Yeah, I’m fine. Not exactly all peachy, but managing. Meds are working, stitches are holding, you know how it goes.”</p>
<p>And damn right Dean knew, knew all too well in fact. “Alright, keep me posted, I should get going before people worry I’ve got a hot girlfriend on the other end of the line,” he joked lightly, just happy to hear that Sam was okay for the time being, plane delay or not.</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Sam muttered back, but Dean could hear the smile in it.</p>
<p>“I mean, you’ve got the hair for it, just get a pink scrunchy and-“</p>
<p>“Alright, alright, I get the picture!” Sam protested, making Dean chuckle in response. “Have a safe flight, text when you get up.”</p>
<p>“Sure honey, will do,” Dean continued, picturing the bitchface on the other end of the line. “Tell Cas I said hey, you two stay out of trouble.”</p>
<p>“Will do,” Sam promised. The two of them waited another moment before disconnecting the call, leaving Dean once again alone in the airport, surrounded by rain and the noise of tens of other people, all waiting for their late plane to arrive.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>November 11, 7:12pm</em>
</p>
<p>The plane finally pulled into the terminal, making Dean and the rest of the passengers sigh a bit with relief and annoyance. It took them another fifteen minutes to get everything resituated and soon enough Dean was handing his ticket over, getting it scanned, and listening to his footsteps as they echoed along the metal walkway.</p>
<p>“17D,” the cheery flight attendant directed, and pointed down a few rows. “Window seat, lucky you,” she sent him a smirk, which Dean returned and carried on to his seat.</p>
<p>He hadn’t even realized he’d even gotten a window seat, he’d been too tired and annoyed when booking the flight. He kept his phone and headphones in his pocket and tossed the bag into the overhead compartment, only a <em>little </em>annoyed that he wouldn’t be able to get it quickly if needed. Annoying seemed to be the one word so far that was summing up his trip.</p>
<p>It took another few minutes for the plane to fill up and things to be stowed away. A pretty blonde woman was in the seat next to him, and the two exchanged smiles before a man sat down next to her and the two of them began talking.</p>
<p>Talking, right, there was a meeting coming up. Dean would have to talk at that meeting, about what he wasn’t quite sure. He should probably text Sam to see if he had any information, and his fingers hovered over the phone before a notification came over the loudspeakers.</p>
<p><em>“We’re experiencing a bit of engine difficulty right now,” </em>which elicited an immediate groan from the passengers, <em>“but they’re bringing the part to the tarmac and we should be up within half an hour. We will keep you posted, thank you for your cooperation,”</em>and the voice faded out with a click.</p>
<p>So, engine problems and rain? Oh yeah, this was a great trip so far. Could he still get out and hightail it back to the bunker? The meeting wasn’t that important, but Sam getting better was. Then again, the fate of the entire North American hunter…group, whatever they called themselves—they didn’t really have a name—could be hanging in the balance.</p>
<p>Dean shifted in his seat and pulled out his headphones and set the music to shuffle.</p>
<p>But what would he say? He was just one guy in a room full of suits that probably wanted to completely take control of their operations in the states, which would never fly. Had the Brits ever stopped an apocalypse, let alone two? Dean smirked a bit, doubting the fact that they had even though he had no real idea.</p>
<p>‘Hey, thanks for the help. We could use some organization, sure, maybe some common phone lines, but nobody to take charge. Why? None of us care for that too much.’ It could be put simply enough, but Dean knew it wouldn’t get the point across.</p>
<p>Sam would definitely have been helpful on the trip. He was better at the whole…organizational stuff, thinking things out with a point and backing it up with evidence. The kid had been going to law school for a reason, after all. He could always text Sam.</p>
<p>Dean flicked the phone on and saw the time, 7:57 reflected on the screen along with his music choice and no new messages. He eventually decided against it, since they’d be in the air soon and he could ask from there, he only talked to Sam a few hours ago.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Thank you for your patience, we’ll be leaving the terminal in a few minutes. We can expect a bit of turbulence given the weather, but it is nothing to worry about, and if you could all fasten your seat belts, we’ll get going.”</em>
</p>
<p>Dean was all too happy to fasten his seatbelt, but was a bit annoyed when the attendant told him to turn off his phone until they were in the air. AC/DC faded as Dean turned down the volume and looped the headphones around the device and shoved it in his pocket. He turned to the window, fist to his lips as he looked out.</p>
<p>It was dark now and drops of rain covered the small window. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for the plane to taxi back, turn, and begin the twisting journey down the runway. Dean just wished they’d freaking get on with it already, the sooner they were up in the air the sooner he could get to London and the sooner he could get back to the Bunker.</p>
<p>Eventually the plane did reach the runway, where they practically waited in a line, which Dean would have normally found a bit funny. But soon enough they were off, the engines revving as the wheels began to go forward. Dean’s grip on the armrests tightened as he watched the airport begin to pass by faster.</p>
<p>The plane shuddered a few times and he closed his eyes for a moment, but after that, there was a feeling of weightlessness as the plane left the ground and began to climb.</p>
<p>Dean didn’t release his grip on the armrests for a solid few minutes after that, until they had somewhat stabilized, but were still climbing in altitude. It was still raining as they were going up, and they were advised that the turbulence they were facing was a bit heavy, but not more than the captains could capably handle.</p>
<p>Sure, that did wonders for the ‘what if’ part of Dean’s brain that had become increasingly annoying over the years. Just like what if the last hunt had gone differently? Good or bad, but after so many years of being on the job, the bad side tended to want to show itself more. What if they hadn’t gotten to the Impala in time…? What if-</p>
<p>And just like that, flight attendant or not, Dean was shoving the headphones back in his ears to turn the music back on, because anything was better than sitting in a pressurized, flying capsule during a storm and thinking about what he would have done if his brother had died…again.</p>
<p>Three songs cycled over and he was tempted to hum along, but something told him that the lady in the next seat over may not appreciate it all that much. The fourth song was starting, and he was still staring out the window before said woman gently tapped him on the shoulder.</p>
<p>Dean turned, confused, and she motioned for him to pull his headphones off. He did, and in the absence of music, he could again hear the captain’s voice.</p>
<p>
  <em>“-unprecedented winds coinciding with the storm are not faring well with our engine fix. I am sorry to say but for everyone’s safety, we’ve been advised to return to the terminal and wait for it to clear up. Please keep your seat belts on and phones off.”</em>
</p>
<p>The voice clicked off again and there was an eerie silence on the plane before the seatbelt light came on again. Dean, of course, hadn’t taken his off.</p>
<p>“So, there’s no problem, right, just precaution?” he asked the woman, who seemed a bit confused and worried about the announcement as well.</p>
<p>“I guess. I mean, hopefully, we’ve only been up fifteen minutes. We’ll probably have to find a hotel though, if there won’t be any more flights out,” the woman replied with a slight nod before she turned to the man sitting next to her.</p>
<p>The plane continued to shake as rain pelted the windows and they gradually began to turn back to land. Dean checked the time to see just how long they had been up. It was only 8:22pm.</p>
<p>As his phone screen once again faded to black, the lights in the plane began to falter. Something about the situation made Dean wary that the cause was a ghost, and as the plane began to descend at a steeper rate, it almost made him wish the cause was one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just as a note, New York is an hour ahead of Kansas, so hopefully the timestamps make sense! Also, there won't be a Sunday update, so I'll see you all next Thursday!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Lebanon, Kansas 6:30pm</em>
</p>
<p>“How many types of pasta did you get?” Sam asked as he pulled out the third—he was pretty sure it was the third—box of dried macaroni out of the bag that Cas had brought back to the bunker.</p>
<p>“A few. The list just said ‘pasta’, it wasn’t very specific. But from my understanding, it is a relatively easy food to prepare, so I got plenty,” Cas explained simply with a slight head tilt, and put some of the items in the fridge.</p>
<p>“I can see,” Sam smirked and pulled out a fourth box, only mildly relieved that there wasn’t a fifth hiding somewhere. He slowly made his way over to the cupboard and reached up to put them away with a slight wince.</p>
<p>There was a beat before the question Sam knew was coming. “How are you, Sam?” the angel asked.</p>
<p>Sam finished putting the pasta away before he turned back and shrugged a little. “Been better…been worse. You know the drill.”</p>
<p>Cas nodded slowly, as if he were carefully deciding if Sam was lying or not. “I am familiar with it, yes. I only wish that I could help more.”</p>
<p>Sam gingerly leaned up against the counter and shook his head. There was a time when Cas could heal any wound with just the touch of his finger. And while it’d be nice now, he wasn’t sure how much Cas could do, and he definitely didn’t want to drain the angel. It wasn’t his fault. “Just you being here and grabbing food is enough, Cas. It’s all that Dean and I could ask for,” he smiled assuringly.</p>
<p>“Do you know if he is on the plane yet?” Cas asked curiously, the notes in Sam’s voice seeming to hint that he had talked to his brother.</p>
<p>“Not quite yet. They had some sort of…storm engine delay thing,” Sam shrugged.</p>
<p>“And Dean is enjoying waiting I’m sure,” Cas added sarcastically.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah. But, it’s common stuff, he’ll be over there in no time. He said he’d text when he got up, so I’ll keep my phone on.” Both men nodded and lapsed into a silence for a moment before Sam drummed his fingers on the counter. “Seeing as we have a ton of pasta now, how about some of that and some Netflix?” the hunter suggested. Normally he’d be researching another hunt, but it was getting late and he was already tired. With Dean gone, he’d have to send it over to someone else anyways.</p>
<p>Cas nodded in accordance with the idea. “That sounds like a good plan. I doubt it will be as good as the burgers Dean makes-“</p>
<p>“You heard about that?” Sam asked quickly with a smirk on his face.</p>
<p>“Dean is quite proud of his cooking abilities when he gets to talking,” Cas affirmed, with a bit of a smile too.</p>
<p>“He’s got a reason to be, which you will never repeat back to him,” Sam said, half serious, and half joking.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Cas assured, and turned back to get out a box of pasta. Sam waited for a few more moments before he let go of the counter to see if he could help, or at least supervise. Because how many meals did angels tend to make? Sam could guess that it wasn’t many.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>New York 8:25pm</em>
</p>
<p>The plane had been descending for a solid few minutes before the flight attendants started advising everyone to get their life vest gear on. Well, descending and advising were more like euphemisms in Dean’s mind.</p>
<p>What little he could see from outside the plane was made up of rain and darkness, along with the feeling of falling much too fast. And the attendants were yelling, calmly yelling if that was a thing, for everyone to get their gear on because apparently, the announcement system had failed. Or something. Which was all one big heaping pile of wonderful.</p>
<p>Dean was too busy reaching under his seat to fiddle with the life jacket to remember to text Sam. The phone went into his pocket, and the jacket went over his head and clipped together. He had actually paid attention to the emergency video thing at the beginning. He just wanted to be prepared in case something should happen, because in his line of work, things did happen.</p>
<p>The man and woman next to him were speaking quickly to each other in hushed tones and the whole plane had been reduced to some sort of almost silent murmuring amongst each other.</p>
<p>Dean blew out a breath and leaned his head back in the seat. Everything was shaking as the plane kept dropping. But the crew knew how to handle stuff like this, right? That was their job, that was what they trained for, everything would be fine-</p>
<p>He turned his gaze back towards the window just in time to see what looked like a ball of orange light erupt and then simmer down again. Coinciding with that, the plane jarred violently and he was thrown against his seatbelt. The plane began to dip down to the left and Dean got substantially closer to the ground as it did so.</p>
<p>“What was that?” the woman said, a bit less hushed as she looked around panicked.</p>
<p>“Don’t quote me, but I think the engine. Or an engine, but I hope not,” Dean replied, and looked to her before he looked back to the window. But sure enough, what little he could see of the engine was licked in flames that were only somewhat being dampened by the wind and rain.</p>
<p>The second engine went only mere seconds later, sending another shockwave through the plane, even bigger than the first. After that, the whole mechanical beast tipped and went into a dead fall, or at least that was what it felt like.</p>
<p>Dean was gripping the armrests so hard he would have been afraid they’d break if he hadn’t been more scared of everything else first. And scared wasn’t a word that he used lightly. But when the only thing going through his head was <em>oh crap, we just lost both of our engines on one side, </em>rational thinking tended to give way a bit. Where was Chuck when you needed him?</p>
<p>It would have been better if he could at least see what was going on beyond the window, but it was too dark and stormy to see anything. They were just falling at a fairly severe angle while tipped to one side during a storm, that was all, he’d been through worse, it would be fine, it always was…it was like a mantra he repeated in his head.</p>
<p>He was repeating it so much, in fact, that it took him a few moments to realize that the attendants were giving orders again, the word ‘brace!’ over and over and over. How close were they to the water?</p>
<p>Dean tried to shut his mind up, closed his eyes, and went to duck his head behind the seat, keeping his hands firmly on the armrests. His phone was still in his pocket, and for a split second, his eyes snapped open. He had to text Sam, if a signal could still get out. He had to know what was going on and that they’d deal and he’d be okay. He had to let him know-</p>
<p>He wasn’t quite sure which part of the plane hit the dark water first. All Dean knew was that it hit on his side of the plane and sent his head towards the window in a literal crack of pain.</p>
<p>He had to…he had to…what did he have to do?</p>
<p>Soon, Dean’s vision was as dark as the waters the plane was starting to disappear into.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Lebanon, Kansas 7:32pm</em>
</p>
<p>It had, in fact, taken two boxes of pasta in order to get the ‘simple’ meal done right. The first time, they had gotten to talking and the noodles had turned to mush. The second time, they were both much more careful with them and they turned out just fine. A bit of sauce and drinks later, and they were on their way to Sam’s room.</p>
<p>“Dean will never know that we messed up pasta, got it?” Sam asked as he flicked the lights on and left the plate of food on his bedside table.</p>
<p>“He would find it quite hilarious, but it would be at our expense, I understand,” Cas nodded, and took the remote as Sam handed it to him.</p>
<p>“Find something on Netflix, just no shows about chicks and prison.”</p>
<p>“It was intriguing, although I never did finish it,” Cas mentioned with a slight shrug before he turned on the television and sat down in one of the chairs in Sam’s room.</p>
<p>“Still a no,” Sam said with a sense of finality, and made his way into the bathroom where he got out the pill bottles from the cabinet.</p>
<p>He could hear the television in the other room on the news channel, which was what Sam had preset it to always come up with. They lived in a bunker, but they didn’t live in a bubble.</p>
<p>He turned on the water and downed the few pills he took before eating and grabbed the other two to put with the food. When Sam got out of the bathroom, Cas was still watching the news.</p>
<p>“You forget how to get to Netflix?” Sam asked, looking at the angel for a moment.</p>
<p>Cas simply shook his head. “What was Dean’s plane number?”</p>
<p>The question was quiet and there was a knot of worry in his forehead. Sam put the pills on the plate and turned to the television, which was on commercial. “Um…523, I think. Here, it’s on a post it,” he went over to the desk and grabbed the slip of paper, grateful that Dean had written down the information beforehand. “Should I ask why?”</p>
<p>The silence in the room was getting to him, as was Cas’ tone and the fact that the news was on with a flight… “Cas?” It was quiet and Sam was pretty sure the doctor had mentioned staying away from stressful situations so soon after being shot, but his heart was racing.</p>
<p>He slowly sat down on the edge of the bed as the commercials ended and the news came back on with an ‘alert’ title.</p>
<p>The headline came up next, and Sam half expected to pass out on the spot as his heart seemed to drop into his chest. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be happening, they both said it would be alright…</p>
<p>
  <em>“We’ve just gotten word about this developing story in New York. While experiencing some bad weather and engine difficulties, Flight 523, carrying four hundred two people from New York to London, went down about eighty miles off the coast. Ships and rescue planes have been deployed to the area, as the plane’s beacon was still working, but given the weather, they’re not sure how long the rescue will take.”</em>
</p>
<p>They showed a few pictures of the area and what the storm looked like but Sam just sat there, half openmouthed, staring at the screen. “Cas, can…can you tell anything?”</p>
<p>It was a profound bond, right? Maybe he could tell if something had happened to Dean?</p>
<p>Cas looked like he tried but he eventually shook his head, eyes fixed on the screen.</p>
<p>
  <em>“As of right now, there is no way to tell if there are any survivors.”</em>
</p>
<p>Sam was up and crossing the room before the reporter could say anything else. Dean had to be alive, he had to be. There was no way in hell he would be killed because of a plane crash. It wouldn’t happen.</p>
<p>“Sam—“ Cas tried, but even his tone showed that it was futile to try and stop the younger brother.</p>
<p>“They’ll bring him back to the hospital and they’ll need someone to ID him and he’ll need help recovering,” he said, and got out his boots.</p>
<p>“Sam, you’re still recovering. You shouldn’t be out of the bunker, or driving, or halfway across the country. Dean said to watch out for you.”</p>
<p>“I know, Cas, I know,” Sam shook his head, a bit frustrated, but Cas was only doing his best. Where the brothers were concerned, the best wouldn’t stop them. “I’m going. I’m not leaving him alone on the East Coast after a plane crash. I won’t,” he shook his head. But even bending down to grab a pair of jeans out of his drawer sent a throb of pain through his chest. There was no way he could do almost a full day’s drive in one day…</p>
<p>Cas was looking between the television and Sam, as if debating. “I’m going, Cas, you want to watch out for me, then I guess I’m dragging you along too.”</p>
<p>It only took another moment for the angel nod. Sam supposed maybe he was used to it by now, the stubbornness of the Winchesters when the other one was in danger. “I’ll get some supplies, meet me in the garage,” he conceded and got up from the chair, tossing the remote onto the bed as he did so.</p>
<p>Eventually Sam managed to get his jeans, boots, and shirt up onto the bed along with a jacket. He could change later, but for the drive over, he was going in sweat pants.</p>
<p>He cast a glance back at the television, which was still on the same story, but with no new information, and then flipped it back off. Sam ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm down for a moment, which only half worked.</p>
<p>So instead of sitting and thinking about what ifs, he got ready. Medicine, bandages, clothes, and shoes went into a bag, and the plate of food went into the kitchen. He then made his way over to Dean’s room, and, trying not to think too much, pulled out clothes for him too. Sweatpants, a black shirt, and that blue flannel he seemed to like when he wasn’t quite feeling a hundred percent.</p>
<p>It all went into the bag, and Sam liked to imagine that he would stick his worries down there too.</p>
<p>Was this how Dean felt just a few days ago with their positions swapped?</p>
<p>Sam shook off the thought, turned off the light, and started heading down to the garage probably faster than he should have. Hopefully by the time they got there, the rescuers would have the survivors at one of the hospitals.</p>
<p>Sam had left his brother to fend for himself once when he thought he was dead a few years ago, and he was never making that mistake again. Dean was alive, he had to be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun dunnnnnn things are happening! As always, if anyone has any thoughts, I'd love to hear them :) I hope you all have a good weekend and happy holidays to those that celebrate!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean couldn’t even begin to count how many times he’d been knocked unconscious. Be it by a punch, lack of air, being thrown through said air and hitting something hard, or being hit by something head on, it never got any more pleasant.</p>
<p>What started bringing him around was some light shaking and panicked voices. He didn’t wake up quickly, or gracefully for that matter; he simply rolled his head over and drew in a gasp of air because that did not feel good, at all.</p>
<p>“I’d say take it slow, but we need to get out of here.”</p>
<p>He could somewhat discern the voice, and what it was saying, along with the urgency in it, but he couldn’t make the words <em>mean </em>something, if that made sense. The shaking continued, but Dean was still trying to separate nightmare from reality.</p>
<p>It slowly came back to him that this reality was a nightmare and suddenly waking up became a lot easier. He went to stand up, but everything spun a fair amount and someone rested their hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>Dean looked up, and he must have looked fairly confused, because the woman that was trying to steady him repeated her statement. “We need to go,” she added urgently. Dean nodded faintly and brought his hand up to rub at his aching forehead. When it came away red, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, and tried to shrug it off.</p>
<p>“Water’s rising,” the woman said again as the man with her tried to pull her forward, but she kept her hand on Dean.</p>
<p>“Water?” he muttered. Looking down, he could see that about up to his knees was covered in water. The plane was sinking, and fast, probably given that it had hit at such a high speed from so high up. How long ago had it been?</p>
<p>They crashed, but there was something he had to do, someone he had to call…</p>
<p>“Come on!” the woman actually pulled him up that time and Dean groaned, but slowly started following the man and woman out of their tiny aisle.</p>
<p>Once he was standing, Dean began to register just how cold the water was. It literally felt freezing, and he probably wasn’t too far off given it was the Atlantic in November. It made his legs feel heavy, almost as if they were asleep.</p>
<p>All around them, people were crying and panicking and the staff were trying to get them to what remained of the exits before the water rose any higher. In the almost pitch black darkness, the bright orange life vests around most everyone’s necks stood out as beacons.</p>
<p>Dean only managed to make it a few more steps before the whole plane seemed to shudder and creak. Almost immediately, it began dipping down further and the water inside started to rise. Everyone still inside began trudging through the dark water towards the emergency exits. Each step meant moving gallons of water out of the way and Dean quickly realized that jeans were not an optimal clothing choice for this scenario.</p>
<p>By the time they were almost to the door, the water was up to his chest and it was coming in through the door even faster. The man and woman reached the door ahead of him and said a few quick words before the man swam out, obviously pushing against the water. The woman shot Dean a glance and a small nod before she too turned and tried swimming out. Another few seconds and they were both gone, with a few more people following.</p>
<p>Dean quickly, or as quickly as he could, made his way over to the door with one hand to his forehead, trying to gauge if it was still bleeding. Without an excess of light, it was hard to tell. When he did make it to the door, it was mostly quiet in what remained of the plane, save for a few people and the sounds of rushing water.</p>
<p>He couldn’t see anyone to get to them though, and if he waited a few more seconds, the door would go under and he’d be stuck in a sinking plane. For a split second, saving someone from a werewolf seemed much simpler.</p>
<p>Dean looked between the flooding door and the rest of the plane. He couldn’t stay, that much was obvious, but he really wasn’t looking forward to getting drenched; wet and half frozen jeans were bad enough.</p>
<p>He took another second to psyche himself up before he pushed to the door and ducked his head under. He used the door to pull himself past the incoming water as it rushed in, continuing to flood the plane. It took a few more seconds and a few strong kicks from legs he couldn’t quite feel to get him away from the sinking mass and back to the surface.</p>
<p>His head broke through the water, feeling ten times worse than it did before, as if someone were splitting it open with an ice pick. Dean could faintly see the sinking plane in the darkness, as well as a few other swimmers around him with their life jackets.</p>
<p>What he couldn’t see, however, was his breath coming in short gasps and forming white puffs in front of his face, but he knew they were there. There may have been something to hang onto, but he doubted it, and flipped onto his back to let the life vest hold him up a little.</p>
<p>Everything was just so cold and dark and hard to move. And it was freaking raining, because just being cold and in a plane crash wasn’t bad enough. Even keeping afloat with his arms and legs was a bit tricky. How long would it take to get a boat or someone out to help? How far had they gone before they turned back?</p>
<p>Would someone reach them in time…?</p>
<p>Dean cut off the train of thought before it could go any further. He’d made it through worse, he had, and he could stand some cold water and a concussion.</p>
<p>Still, shaking in freezing water with a bleeding head wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his night. And there was still something he had to do. Someone he had to call? But his phone, and his whole duffel, was lost. In hindsight, it was good he didn’t bring any guns with him.</p>
<p>What would the Brits think when he didn’t show up to the meeting? Would they know? Would they care?</p>
<p>Dean kept playing the guessing game with himself. It was only when he opened his eyes that he noticed the rain had stopped for a little while. He couldn’t see much of the clouds aside from a bit of moon that peeked out when they shifted ever so slightly.</p>
<p>Just like when he’d sit on the back of the car and look at the stars, that was nice…</p>
<p>Dean closed his eyes and kept playing the guessing game. He kept himself afloat and kept hoping for some sort of rescue. He kept hoping that maybe the person crying off in the distance would find something to ease it. He kept wishing for a fireplace.</p>
<p>He kept on keeping on, floating and thinking and freezing in the middle of the Atlantic because it was the only thing he knew how to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shorter chapter this time, but the next one gets longer again. Also we've got some flashbacks coming up! You guys didn't think I'd have Sam get hurt on a werewolf hunt and then not show you what happened, right? ;) Thanks for reading! Happy New Year!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In case the content doesn't make it clear, anything in italics is a flashback!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Okay. Full moon’s two weeks away, there’s two of them for sure, no more, and I’d say no less but we could always hope for some random stroke of luck. And they won’t get the jump on us because-“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Because we’ve been the ones watching them for once,” Sam finished, with a slightly good-natured eye roll. “Dude, how many times have we been over this? Four? We know how it’s going to go.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean stopped, mouth open part way as he tried to formulate a response. “Yeah no, I know, I just wanted to make sure you were clear on everything, no room for error and all that, I am not hauling you through some forest with werewolves on my ass.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Although there was a touch of humor in his voice, there was also a deep ring of truth. It was less than a year since their last werewolf hunt, which had led to both of them being temporarily dead (although Sam didn’t know about Dean’s…circumstances). “And I’m not hauling you out if all your loud ‘reminding’ gets us caught with our pants down,” Sam countered with a small smile.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Whatever. Just stick to the plan.” With that, they lapsed into silence and continued to the cabin.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was, in fact, a rare hunt where everything had been planned out. Sam had of course noticed, but had elected to not say anything, which Dean was somewhat grateful for. He never planned things like this, ever, but he didn’t want a repeat of last time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The werewolves weren’t supposed to be purebloods, so they hopefully shouldn’t be causing too much trouble. They were just a pair of dudes up in a hunting cabin, sometimes going into town a few miles away for some…takeout. Dean had even tried to park the Impala closer, should there be any problems, which, in their line of work, were likely to occur to some degree. Everything they could do they were prepared for.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They were extremely cautious to avoid any fallen branches as they approached the small cabin. Rather than split up or go through the front, they avoided the windows and snaked their way in through the back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They had in fact watched the two men drive up (from their place covered by the Impala and the trees with a pair of binoculars) and enter the cabin, but neither one of them had left. There was a light on in the sitting room and only one story to the cabin, so signs pointed to them being in that room. All the brothers had to do was go in the back, get behind the sitting room, and end it before anything started. It was simple, yeah, it’d be super simple, as it always was.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean sent Sam one more look as they both cocked their guns. Dean tried the handle, which was of course locked, and went about unlocking it. Sure, he could kick it in, but then again, it was all about minimizing risks. The door eventually clicked open, and Dean put the kit away to return to his gun.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With careful hands, he began to push the door open, both of them at the ready…</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>There was something bright in his eyes. Not bright as in ‘heavenly death light bright’, that wasn’t exactly a thing and Dean had the unfortunate experience to prove it. It wasn’t a light, it was just black. So when the darkness around him started getting brighter, he knew he wasn’t dead…yet. As the brightness became a bit more annoying, the…memory was it? started to fade away.</p>
<p>With some degree of difficulty, he pried his eyes open, which he was surprised to find not frozen shut. Everything was freezing and heavy, as if he were a cold, slowly sinking stone. Cold Stone? No, not like the ice cream, like the metaphor. What was he thinking?</p>
<p>He would’ve shaken his head to dispel the thoughts, but decided that it would be a better idea to not jostle his head and instead look for the source of the light. He had no idea how long he had been in the water for, after all.</p>
<p>Off to his right a fair distance away, there were voices. While they were muted, there was also light surrounding them. Dean pressed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to get a clearer picture of what was going on. He waited a few seconds for things to focus, but he was pretty sure he could make out a blocky outline and some lights flashing over the dark surf.</p>
<p>And those lights were bright, obviously search lights scanning the area. Given the blocky shape, the size of the plane that had gone down, and the lights, he was guessing (and hoping) for some sort of rescue ship. How long had he been out there? And how many boats were even available? How the hell would they see him?</p>
<p>That last question seemed to wake him up more from whatever frozen daze he had found himself stuck in. Dean went to raise his arms, which proved to be more of a challenge than it should have been, and send a sluggish flow of blood to his already pounding head. Would anyone even see a lone, small arm waving around?</p>
<p>“H’y,” he tried calling. Calling was a drastic overstatement. The attempted shout never made it further than his mouth, which was chattering and closed mostly shut. His next attempt resulted in a few staggered coughs, but still no attention or rescue attempt. He shifted his shoulders and gradually his whole body to try and get some blood going, which he assumed would help.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Dean managed to get the whole word out on the third attempt. “Hey!” Now that one was louder, but the boats were still too far away, and most likely pre-occupied with getting others to safety. But still, he could see the ship and its lights. Give a Winchester a destination or an objective, and they could figure out the rest.</p>
<p>“Come on you stubborn sonofabitch,” he half muttered, half thought. He was not dying in some freezing water after a plane crash, it just wasn’t happening. He had to get back home, he had things he needed to do.</p>
<p>It took some more mental pushing but eventually he started moving his arms and legs. Slowly but surely Dean started to make his way through the undulating waves, trying to ignore the aching and pinpricks throughout his body.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Lebanon, Kansas 7:51pm</em>
</p>
<p>When they had first stepped foot into that cabin only a week or so ago, things had been quiet. If they only knew what they had been in for, it would have seemed more like the calm before the storm,</p>
<p>That was how Sam was feeling, his echoing, slightly limping footsteps the only sound in the bunker as he made his way towards the garage, bags slung over his shoulder. He was trying to be quick, but not being able to breathe completely wasn’t exactly helping.</p>
<p>When he finally got to the garage, Cas was already standing there, a pair of similar duffles slung over his shoulder, but he was staring at the Impala, as if confused.</p>
<p>“Come on, we need to load it up,” Sam instructed as he made his way over and popped the trunk open.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t Dean take the car?” the angel asked, but he too eventually came around to the back end of the machine.</p>
<p>“Said he didn’t want her being all alone in an airport parking lot,” Sam replied. He probably would have smiled, if not for the situation that presented itself that led them to having to drive the Impala anyways.</p>
<p>Cas nodded as he put the bags in and took Sam’s final one. “It does sound like something he would be opposed to.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam replied absently. He fingered the keys for a moment in his pocket before he brought them out. If he couldn’t even walk to the garage without being out of breath, he doubted he could drive for a solid day without problems. Dean hadn’t even wanted him driving in the first place, and his injury was the reason why he hadn’t been on the plane with Dean…</p>
<p>Sam cut off the train of thought by tossing Cas the keys, which he caught, and again looked at, a bit confused. “I shouldn’t drive,” Sam admitted weakly. “Dean would kill both of us if we crashed it, so just be careful.”</p>
<p>Cas looked from the keys to Sam for another moment before he too, nodded. “I will be careful,” he said, as if promising, and closed the trunk. Sam went through his mental checklist again, they had clothes, his meds, ID, and money, and whatever Cas had brought, so they should be fine when they got to New York and got to Dean. Because they’d get to him because he would be alright.</p>
<p>As soon as Cas started up the car, rock music began blaring from the speakers, which Sam hurriedly turned down and shook his head before he switched it to the radio station. It took a few minutes of driving away from the bunker to get a decent signal, and when they did, the news was still repeating what they had already heard on the television.</p>
<p>Eventually the radio got lowered, though both men kept an ear out for anything new. After an hour of driving, the nine o'clock update came on, and Sam turned it up again before he resumed his position of looking out the window.</p>
<p>
  <em>“This just in, news of flight 523 and its passengers. Coast Guard crews have been sweeping the area for the past half hour and just five minutes ago came into contact with survivors-“</em>
</p>
<p>Sam immediately reached over and turned it up.</p>
<p>
  <em>“-some of whom we have been told are gravely injured and suffering from hypothermia. Over an hour in the frigid water is enough to bring about the possibility of permanent damage, but as of now, survivors have started being picked up. More rescue boats have been dispatched to the area, hoping to bring all four hundred and two people back safely. Stay tuned, we’ll have more information on the rescue in half an hour.”</em>
</p>
<p>The car was silent for a few moments as the report changed to some advertisement and Sam again lowered it.</p>
<p>“It’s likely Dean is still alive,” Cas reminded a minute or so later, eyes still fixed on the road. “If survivors have been found in those conditions, so could he.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded absently. “I know, Cas, I know.” It was a quiet admission. He wanted to know that it would be alright, but wanting wasn’t the same as having. But all Sam had was that wanting and hoping that Dean was already on the boat, and not one of the gravely injured the report had talked about.</p>
<p>Though, in their line of work, wanting and hoping often didn’t lead to the best of outcomes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Everything is on the move now, including the flashbacks. Fun times! As always, if anyone has any thoughts or emojis or anything about the story so far, I'd love to hear them :) Thanks for reading, I hope 2021 is treating you all well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam had vaguely been watching the passing street signs as the Impala continued to fly down the highway (at a relatively safe speed, with an angel behind the wheel and an injured Winchester in the passenger seat, mind you). He managed to catch half an hour of sleep here or there, but Cas kept them driving through the night, only stopping a few times for breaks and gas.</p>
<p>After each passing hour, Sam’s chest was definitely starting to hurt more. He just needed rest and to de-stress and take his meds and know that Dean was alright. But stopping for a motel would mean losing a few valuable hours to getting to Dean as soon as possible. Sam re-situated himself every time the pain started creeping up again, assured Cas that he was alright, and went back to watching the world pass by. It was easier than thinking about what may be happening on the other side of the country, after all.</p>
<p>Though, without the blaring rock music, something seemed off. Cas didn’t dare to touch Dean’s coveted tape deck, and after an hour or so of lame radio music, the Impala had once again become quiet. It was just another reminder of the reason why they were in the Impala in the first place.</p>
<p>As soon as the sun started cresting over the horizon, Sam had woken up from another short reprieve to find that the car was parked. He blinked his eyes a few times to focus them, and upon further looking, found no Cas in the car with him and said car in the parking lot of a motel.</p>
<p>It only took another moment of looking around, confused, for Cas to come back and drop a key onto the dashboard.</p>
<p>“No, Cas, c’mon, we need to keep driving,” Sam protested, although a bit weaker than he intended. The stop wasn’t for Cas, after all.</p>
<p>Cas didn’t reply, and instead turned the car back on and began driving towards the other side of the small complex.</p>
<p>“Cas-“ he started again.</p>
<p>“No,” was the simple, unmoving argument back as Cas didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Dean told me to take care of you, which is what I intend to do. You’re obviously in pain, you’re too tired and worried to mask it, you need rest.”</p>
<p>The car was silent for another few moments until Cas pulled into a spot in front of a few of the rooms, turned off the car, and paused before he looked to Sam. “It will do Dean no good other than to worry him if you show up at the hospital in pain and sleep deprived.”</p>
<p>Sam had to admit Cas at least had a point there. Assuming Dean was even at the hospital; they had elected to turn off the news until they stopped for breaks, but the signal wasn’t always the best. Hopefully the motel would at least have something.</p>
<p>He thought it over for another minute before he slowly nodded. It would do neither of them any good to sit and argue over it. “Yeah, you’ve got a point,” Sam said quietly.</p>
<p>“Just a few hours, we can leave at dusk, and should make it to New York sometime tomorrow, we’re making good time,” Cas continued, as if to assure Sam just a bit more.</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Sam nodded again. “I just—I don’t want—Dean hates hospitals,” he eventually ended on, trying for a bit of a smirk that eventually fell flat.</p>
<p>Cas seemed to understand what he was getting at and nodded back. “From my experience, I can’t see why someone would like being in one,” he agreed. “He’s probably there already, resting, as you should be,” Cas reminded. He toyed with the car keys a bit in his hand before he grabbed the motel key, got out of the car, and headed around to the trunk.</p>
<p>“Probably,” Sam repeated quietly, and shook his head. Dean had to be, he had to be. He was probably all doped up on painkillers and sleeping or trying to sign himself out and get a phone or helping with the rescue efforts himself. Sam preferred the second or third option to the first, even though Dean on painkillers made for some fun stories later.</p>
<p>Sam soon followed Cas, although it took him a bit longer, out of the car and into the waiting motel room.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Sam added quietly, with a hint of a smile on his face that stuck around for a bit longer. He wouldn’t have gotten a quarter of this far without Cas, that was certain.</p>
<p>“It is no problem, we’ll get him back,” the angel assured Sam again before he put the duffel down on the little kitchenette table. “I can put up the salt lines, though I doubt they’ll be needed, you should get some rest.”</p>
<p>Sam looked back and forth between the bed closest to the door, which would probably remain empty, and the duffel on the table. “Yeah,” he nodded again and made his way over to the duffel to grab his medication.</p>
<p>Though he doubted he’d be able to sleep much with his thoughts running rampant through his head, it couldn’t hurt to at least lie down. Meds, water, bed, drive, Dean, and get food somewhere in there. He had a mental list, so only five things to do before they got to Dean. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dean was sure he was getting closer to the boat. Or at least, he should have been. The waves and his splitting skull and the fact that his body didn’t exactly want to move weren’t helping the situation any. He just had to get to the boat…how far was it?</p>
<p>“Here!” he tried again, and raised a numb arm above the water. The searchlights were spinning around looking for people. As Dean watched, they would sometimes stay on one figure for a few moments and there would either be some sort of movement or the lights would go back to searching. He knew that it meant when the lights went back, and he didn’t want the same fate to happen to him.</p>
<p>Gradually, the ship got closer, but with every passing moment, it was if his life was literally leeching out into the water around him. Everything was just cold and was moving too much and…and…</p>
<p>He raised another arm above the water, grateful he had a life vest on so that he could do so.</p>
<p>“H’y,” Dean tried again, and coughed some of the water away from his face, which did not help at all. Were his ribs hurt too? Did he hurt his ribs? He honestly had no idea.</p>
<p>The lights kept spinning and Dean kept his arm up, until, magically, one seemed to stop on him. And <em>damn </em>the sudden influx of light hurt. It hurt a lot, so much so that he had to turn his head away. With eyes squeezed shut, Dean kept his arm raised and waved it back and forth a bit, hoping that it wasn’t just dumb luck and that a person on the boat actually saw him.</p>
<p>By some miracle, it seemed, the light got even brighter. So…either he was dying or someone had seen him, and Dean was really hoping the latter.</p>
<p>He couldn’t discern the words, but there was obviously some shouting going on, and it seemed to be getting closer. Dean lowered his arm gradually, letting it thunk back into the icy water. He didn’t move any more, he just sat there, bobbing up and down as the voices got closer.</p>
<p>He had definitely been seen, and if his head wasn’t killing him so much, he’d laugh out of sheer freaking gratitude.</p>
<p>It took another few moments for the boat to reach him. Or…he thought moments, it could have been minutes, he wasn’t really sure. But he didn’t dare open his eyes again, for the light was too bright against the dark waves he had gotten used to.</p>
<p>The shouting kept getting closer until it was right on top of him, and then there were hands scrambling to get him up onto the boat. A few latched onto his life vest and heaved, with Dean letting out a fairly loud groan as they did so.</p>
<p>And then…the undulating stopped. There was semi-solid ground under him as he flopped (which was probably a nicer term than what actually happened) onto the deck and looked, a bit dazed, at the people around him.</p>
<p>“-you hear me? Sir?”</p>
<p>Dean caught the last bit of the sentence and he blinked his eyes, trying to focus more on the man in front of him, who was very loudly asking him something. It seemed loud, anyways.</p>
<p>He nodded his head in the slightest bit, which he immediately deemed afterwards to be a bad call, as a sudden wave of dizziness had him tilting to the side.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, easy there,” the first part was directed to him. “Get him propped up on the side, we need to get the vest and jacket off, grab a blanket and a wrap for his head, it doesn’t look good,” was said to the rest of the people milling around him. What Dean heard was more chopped up, but he got the gist.</p>
<p>How badly was his head hurt? Before he could contemplate it more, he was gently slid to rest against the side of the boat, or a chair, or something hard and stable.</p>
<p>“Gonna get you out of all this wet gear, how does that sound?”</p>
<p>Dean couldn’t tell if it was a rhetorical question or not, so he closed his eyes again.</p>
<p>“Hey, sound good yes or no, we need to keep you awake,” the man prompted again, and tapped Dean a bit on the shoulder as he went about removing his life vest and outer jacket, both of which were thoroughly soaked.</p>
<p>Someone came rushing back over with a blanket, which was quickly wrapped around his shoulders, and a few ‘thanks’ followed before the other person left.</p>
<p>“Okay, sir, you gotta name, some ID on you?”</p>
<p>ID? Not on him, no, it was back in his bag in the…plane, yeah, he wasn’t getting any of that back.</p>
<p>“D,” was all he managed to get out through his chattering teeth as he wrung his hands together. When the hell did it get so cold and hard to move?</p>
<p>“Alright, D, can you tell me what happened?”</p>
<p>Dean really wasn’t in favor of the questions, but he was less in favor of the sudden pressure on his head as the man pressed a bandage to it. That alone had his eyes opening wide as he gasped, some of the numbness from the water wearing off with the pain.</p>
<p>“Sorry, gotta stop the bleeding,” the man apologized quietly, obviously focused on working while he waited for Dean’s answer.</p>
<p>“Crash,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Okay, good. Do you know what date it is?”</p>
<p>There was more pressure on his head, which again had him nearly tipping over as the man fastened the bandage around his wound.</p>
<p>What had he asked? Date? It was…cold. So a cold month, it was…why was this so hard?</p>
<p>“D?” the man prompted again. When Dean didn’t answer, he pulled out a flashlight. “Gonna pass this over your eyes, see how it feels, okay?”</p>
<p>Dean didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter, so he kept his eyes open as best he could, but ended up shutting them immediately as the light passed over them.</p>
<p>“Hurts, huh?”</p>
<p>Damn right it hurt. But Dean couldn’t exactly express that given how tense and tight everything was, so he let out a low ‘mhm’.</p>
<p>The man put his flashlight away and tugged someone else over, at which point Dean kept his eyes closed.</p>
<p>“Hypothermia…hour and a half in the water minimum…head gash…concussion probably, he needs to get this checked out.”</p>
<p>From the gist of it, his prognosis didn’t sound good.</p>
<p>“Got about fifteen minutes before another boat gets here, you hang on that long and we’ll be back in town before you know it, get you some hot chocolate, you like that? I’m gonna grab a cup of hot water, don’t you go anywhere.”</p>
<p>At some point before that was said, the other person had vanished. But this man, he was trying to keep him up and talking or lucid or something. It reminded him of how someone else usually got…he probably wouldn’t be too happy if Dean passed out.</p>
<p>Well, that was too bad for him then. Dean listed sideways, happy to find that there was something to prop his aching head up on before he curled his legs in tighter and got the blanket more snug around his shaking form.</p>
<p>It was only then that he noticed the hushed voices and cries of those around him. How many were on the boat? How many were still in the water?</p>
<p>How long did the guy say they had to stay out for? Fifty minutes? No, no, no, that wouldn’t be good.</p>
<p>Before the man could get back with whatever he had gone off to grab, the numbness in his body and pain in his head and overall shaking and tiredness and a whole list of other things had Dean slowly losing track of why it was important to stay conscious.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So Dean's finally been rescued! That's not a terrible place to leave things, right...? I hope you guys are enjoying thanks for reading! I'm forgoing an update on Sunday to post a new story, so if you've seen the series finale and are a fan of the bunker maybe take a peek? ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, italics are a flashback! I hope you guys like reading them, they were a part of the story that I liked going back and piecing together. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Like many old cabins, the door creaked ever so slightly as it was opened. Dean paused for a moment, hand still on the handle while the other re-curled against his gun. Sam kept his own weapon up, waiting for one of the men to come through the door at that very second. When that didn’t happen, Dean pushed it open enough for Sam to slip through.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The room they entered was the kitchen, and Sam quickly moved to the right side before Dean slipped in the left. There were faint voices from the room over where the men were, and Sam jerked his head in that direction. Of course, Dean had heard too, and was cautiously peeking around the edge of the wall. Sam watched his brother and remained motionless, making sure no one else came around the back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean took another step forward, his heavy boots making the old wood floor creak much like the door.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> But that was all it took. A tiny, minuscule little sound of pressure being applied and the conversation in the other room stopped. There was a second of silence before bullets started raining in from the sitting room.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> There was a sharp “Sam!” uttered as Dean dropped to the floor and his brother tried to follow suit. Unfortunately, one of the stray bullets caught him in the side of his chest and spun him around.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> One of his hands immediately went from his gun to the wound, which wasn’t exactly bad, but was searing and probably hit a rib as it scraped by. Still, Sam tried to duck as the bullets continued, only ceasing to reload.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean cast him a hurried glance before he was off, gun at the ready, into the other room. Sam didn’t hear much beyond a struggle and a few pained grunts before he had gotten up too, left hand still at his side.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As he entered the room, the free werewolf that Dean was not trying to manhandle on the ground came at him from the side and knocked him down, which didn’t help his wound any. The wind was knocked out of his already pained lungs as Sam hit the ground, the other man on top of him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The two began grappling for Sam’s gun, the man trying to pin down Sam’s arm and pry it from his grasp as Sam fought back. He kept twisting, only sending more flares of pain to the injury. Somehow, he hooked his leg around the man’s knee and twisted again, managing to roll them over so that Sam was on top.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The only problem was that the gun was between their chests, safety off, and had two grown men scrambling for control. Sam grunted and winced as the werewolf’s superior strength began to win out. All it took was another wrong spike of pain and something falling over from Dean’s own scuffle to make Sam lose control.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The first gunshot he heard was that of Dean’s gun finding its place in the first werewolf, and the thud that followed was the body hitting the ground. The second gunshot he heard made his ears ring, but it was also aimed at him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The round went into his chest with such force that Sam jolted back, away from the assailant. The only thing he registered more than the white hot agony was the feeling of breathlessness that took over…and the fact that Dean was shouting his name.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> November 12, 5:23pm</em>
</p>
<p>The nightmare, no, memory, had Sam waking up rather abruptly. He was careful to not jolt awake, but his racing heart wasn’t helping his still healing injury. He couldn’t shake the memory; not the wood creaking beneath his feet or the pain in his chest or how worried Dean had been.</p>
<p>“Sam?” came Cas’ quiet question into his well-being.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry, bad dream,” Sam assured and shook his head a bit before he looked over towards the angel, who was sitting at the small motel table with a laptop out. “I’m good,” he added, seeing the worried glance that had crossed Cas’ face. “What time is it?”</p>
<p>Cas glanced at the clock on the top of the computer screen. “Currently it is 5:23, now :24pm, you slept on and off for about six hours,” he informed, to which Sam nodded again.</p>
<p>“Any news?” He wasn’t sure what kind of news he was referring to…any would be helpful, and good would be preferable.</p>
<p>Cas shook his head. “Pertaining to Dean directly, no, they haven’t released specific information regarding the people involved. Though,” he took another look at the screen, “it is estimated that about a hundred and fifty people have been rescued so far, they’re still searching for survivors.”</p>
<p>Dean could very easily be a part of that hundred and fifty, there was no reason why he shouldn’t be, but he could just as easily still be in the water. Or he could be in a boat unaccounted for at the hospitals yet. There were so many options and what ifs and unanswered questions.</p>
<p>Sam rubbed his hand down his face and nodded again.</p>
<p>“I did bring some food in case you were hungry. And you should take your medicine with it too, so I would advise doing so before we leave again,” Cas mentioned and motioned towards the duffel bag that was on the free, still untouched bed. It was the bed closest to the door, and having it empty was just another sign of how screwed up their current situation was.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Sam half smiled. Getting out of bed was a literal pain, as the painkillers had faded in the hours since he had last taken them. His chest throbbed dully as he got up and then sat down on the other bed and began rummaging through it.</p>
<p>“How long should it take us to get to New York? Half a day?” he asked, his calculations probably off as he dug out a bottle of pills and a bag of pretzels.</p>
<p>Cas typed a few more things into the computer and read for a moment before he nodded. “Driving through the night, and with stops, we should reach New York by morning, though we will also have to find out which hospital survivors were taken to and make our way there.”</p>
<p>Okay, tomorrow morning. They’d find Dean by tomorrow morning, and probably per his disgruntled, hurried request to get out of the hospital, be out by mid-afternoon. Everything would be fine, it always was, and if not, they’d make it fine. Fifteen hours, tops. Dean could last fifteen more hours by himself…right?</p>
<p>“And you’re fine driving like that?” Sam checked, just to be sure, because it was hard to tell with the angel sometimes.</p>
<p>Cas nodded in assurance. “I am confident that we can get there in the set amount of time. I am doubtful that I would tire enough to not be able to drive that far,” he explained, with a bit of a smile himself. Sam figured Cas wanted to find Dean as much as he did.</p>
<p>“Alright then,” Sam nodded back. “Say we hit the road in…twenty?”</p>
<p>Cas shrugged and went back to looking at the computer. “Whatever is best for you, Sam.”</p>
<p>Sam sighed a little and decided to focus on his pretzels. He went about making another mental list, a tally of sorts, of how many more things they had to do before they got to Dean. It kept him thinking about the situation, but not <em>about </em>the situation, if it made sense. It did to him, anyways.</p>
<p>He opened up the bag and popped a pretzel into his mouth. Food, meds, gather things to put into the car, drive, a few pit stops, research, hospital, Dean. He went over the list a few more times. He could fit the items onto two hands, which was good. It wouldn’t be that long until they got him back, and only a few small things had to be checked off before they could do so.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They hit the road again twenty-three minutes later and the next few hours passed by in much of the same style as they had before. There was no real noise, save for a few attempts at some decent radio music and more than a few accompanying short conversations.</p>
<p>At one point, Cas asked about the lyrics to the song, which made Sam smile, and he could’t figure out if the angel was doing it on purpose to make him smile or if he was genuinely confused. Either way, it was an…interesting experience.</p>
<p>Around eight, Sam sat up in his seat a bit straighter as he came across a new piece of information. “Found where they’re taking the majority of the survivors,” he relayed to Cas, who cast him a quick glance from the road. “Looks like it’s one just a few miles from Jersey City, across one of the bridges onto Long Island,” Sam said and clicked a few more things. “Long Island General.”</p>
<p>“We have a set destination now, that is good,” Cas added, seemingly a bit more at ease now that they knew exactly where they would be going.</p>
<p>Sam hummed a bit in agreement as he kept reading. “Latest reports say one hundred seventy eight survivors were brought to the hospital…” he trailed off before he read the next numbers. “Twenty three confirmed dead. The rest are either on boats on their way back or still being searched for.”</p>
<p>Silence began to permeate the car once again, their worries remained unspoken.</p>
<p>“He’s there, Sam,” eventually cut through the tension, “he has to be. If Dean Winchester is something other than a survivor, he’s one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever met.” He cast the younger brother another glance, to which Sam nodded in understanding.</p>
<p>“No way he’d let a plane kill him, no way,” Sam agreed, and tried for a smile. It only ended up half working, but that was enough. His phone gradually dimmed and then shut off, but he didn’t turn it on again, for he had gotten the information he needed.</p>
<p>Half an hour later, Cas pulled off the highway to refuel Baby, allowing Sam a moment alone with the thoughts he didn’t want rattling around inside his head. The lights under the metallic plates covering the gas station were much too bright and the truck idling at the next pump over was too loud. The car itself was too quiet without its rock music, which Sam had gotten used to over the years, though he would never admit it to Dean.</p>
<p>Sam gingerly reached down to grab a water bottle to give himself something to do. Less than twelve hours; his mental list was getting shorter the closer they got.</p>
<p>Cas opened the closed the door a minute later, his gaze lingering for a moment on the opened but otherwise untouched bottle of water in Sam’s lap. He didn’t say anything, and instead threw the car into drive and started driving away from the station.</p>
<p>As the too bright lights faded into the rearview mirror, Sam leaned his head against the window as he had so often done and closed his eyes. After all, Cas was right. Dean would be mad if he showed up at the hospital having gotten no sleep, and he couldn’t let his brother down.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>November 13, 7:42am</em>
</p>
<p>As predicted, they made it to the hospital just before eight in the morning, with only minimal stops. Sam had managed to somehow get a few hours of sleep on the way and Cas looked alright, so they parked the car in one of the few spots left in the big parking structure next to the hospital and closed the doors behind them.</p>
<p>Sam was careful to take any identification they had with them, as well as a card for health insurance. They made their way into the hospital slower than Sam would have liked, but he wasn’t exactly at his top speed.</p>
<p>Once they were inside, it was clear that being the main hospital following a plane crash tended to make things a bit more crazy. Not that papers were flying everywhere and people were running like they had hellhounds on their heels, but nurses did seem more frazzled and most of the chairs in the waiting area were taken up.</p>
<p>“Stay here, I’ll check with the front,” Sam said quietly, and began making his way up before Cas could protest. He plastered a smile onto his face as he walked up to the front desk, trying to ignore the pain in his chest that had been aggravated by the car ride over.</p>
<p>“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find someone?” he asked once the nurse finished typing on her computer and looked up at him.</p>
<p>“Looking for a victim of the crash?” she asked, looking probably more tired than she normally was.</p>
<p>Sam nodded. “Yeah, my brother was on the flight, we heard this was mainly where people were being taken. He hasn’t answered his phone, or texts, and no one else has been able to reach him,” he explained.</p>
<p>The nurse nodded at this. “Do you have records? I need a date of birth, physical description, photos, things like that.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded again and pulled out the documents he had stored in his jacket pocket. One was a picture of Dean’s driver’s license, one was Sam’s, and the other was a picture of the two of them together.</p>
<p>The nurse looked them over before she typed his name into the database. Sam looked on expectantly, trying to not drum his fingers on the counter as he had a habit of doing. She clicked a few more things before she shook her head.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, he’s not in the database for people that have been brought in over the past few days.”</p>
<p>Sam’s heart immediately fell. What if it was the wrong hospital? What if he hadn’t been brought in yet? What if-</p>
<p>“But we have had a few John Does come in, lost their ID in the crash, and,” she clicked a few more things, “a few still haven’t been able to provide us with their information. Would you mind if I passed these off to one of the staff and had them check?”</p>
<p>And just like that, the tiny flickering flame of hope inside Sam’s aching chest got reignited. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he nodded hurriedly.</p>
<p>“Great,” she smiled tiredly at him. “Have a seat, I’ll send the staff member over to you if they find anything.”</p>
<p>“Thanks so much,” Sam added with a smile of his own as the nurse took the documents and waved someone else over. He turned and headed back into the waiting room, finding Cas standing by the water dispenser, as all the seats were taken.</p>
<p>“Is he here?” the angel asked expectantly, arms folded across his chest.</p>
<p>Sam shrugged ever so slightly. “Maybe. He’s not in the database, but they have a few John Does, so the nurse is checking it out, said for us to wait here.”</p>
<p>Cas nodded back at the news. “If he’s not here, we’ll check the other hospitals.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam replied absently. He wasn’t sure what else to say other than that of course they would check all the hospitals until they found Dean one way or another.</p>
<p>They ended up propped against the wall for the next twenty or so minutes, listening to the sounds of the hospital around them until a voice called “Sam Winchester?” and had both of them perking up.</p>
<p>The voice came from a middle aged blonde nurse off to the side in the front of the waiting room. Sam waved his hand and motioned for Cas to follow before making his way over.</p>
<p>“That’s me,” he introduced with a slight smile. “This is our half brother, Castiel,” Sam introduced, to which Cas nodded in greeting. “Is there…is Dean here?”</p>
<p>The woman, ‘Marian’, as denoted by her name tag, looked over the two before she sighed. “If the picture and description matches the man, then…yes.”</p>
<p>A smile immediately broke out across both men’s faces, but was quickly threatened by the hesitation in Marian’s voice. “He-he’s okay, right, if he’s here?” Sam asked, shaking his head a bit as he tried to understand where the hesitation was coming from.</p>
<p>“To a degree. He’s alive, but he came in unconscious and with no identification or history, so he’s listed as a John Doe,” Marian informed. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t regained consciousness since he’s been in our care.”</p>
<p>And that was the source of the hesitation, Sam found. Still, Dean was alive, that had to count for something, right?</p>
<p>“Do you know what’s wrong?” Cas interjected, worry lines forming on his forehead.</p>
<p>Marian nodded before she shrugged in the slightest. “He had been in the water a while when they found him, and hypothermia had set in, like with many of the other survivors. Bruised ribs and torso in general, but it’s his head that’s causing problems.”</p>
<p>“Head?” Sam clarified. Head wounds were notorious for being nasty, especially with their luck combined with the fact that Dean hadn’t woken up yet.</p>
<p>“He has a concussion and a lot of swelling in his forehead, but we don’t know how bad everything will be until he wakes up.”</p>
<p>“He will wake up though, right?” Sam pressed, and looked worriedly between her and Cas, who had taken a sudden interest in the wall behind Marian’s left shoulder.</p>
<p>She, in turn, sighed. “It’s hard to tell. We can hope, but from the way this looks on the surface and the severity of the circumstances, you may need to prepare yourselves for the fact that this injury could have long-term effects.”</p>
<p>Marian said it as gently as possible, but there was no easy way to tell a Winchester that there was a possibility their brother may never be the same.</p>
<p>At least Dean was still alive, that was all Sam kept repeating to himself. He’d wake up and he’d be fine and they’d go back to the Bunker and everything would go back to normal and-</p>
<p>“Sam?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head, as if that would work to jostle his thoughts, but it didn’t. “He will—he’ll—uh, he’ll be okay though, right? People bounce back from head wounds all the time.”</p>
<p>Marian sighed again and shook her head back, blonde curls rolling on her shoulder. “Until he wakes up, I’m sorry to tell the two of you, but we just have to wait and hope.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Usually, Sam was the brother that was better at the whole ‘waiting and hoping’ thing, because things usually weren’t this dire. At least Dean was in a hospital, and at least he was alive, that was what mattered. The ‘what ifs’ and ‘for nows’ could wait a little while at least.</p>
<p>“Can we see him?” Cas spoke up for Sam, his usually fairly blank face betrayed by worry lines that made him look all the more human.</p>
<p>Marian looked between the two men before she nodded. “Follow me, he’s on floor three with our more serious cases,” she explained, and waved them forward.</p>
<p>Sam half heard her, and it took Cas’ hand on his shoulder to bring him back down to earth. He nodded and quirked a bit of a smile that he was okay, at least for now. When he saw Dean though…he wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>They followed Marian down the hallways, boots echoing on the tile as the noise from the waiting area gradually disappeared behind them. They got into the main elevator and she pushed the button for floor three and they all waited in pained silence. When the door quietly dinged open, they again followed her to the right and down one more hallway before they stopped by a door, numbered 376.</p>
<p>The door was already half open to allow for easier access, and Marian opened it all the way to let the two of them in. Cas entered first and Sam followed close behind, both parts eager and nervous to see Dean again, who wasn’t even conscious.</p>
<p>The three of them stopped at the far end of the room, gaze trained on the man in the bed, who looked about as Sam had expected him to, but it was still a bit of a shock. He hadn’t seen Dean in a hospital for an injury in so long, even though he himself just got out of his own stay.</p>
<p>Dean’s head was thoroughly wrapped in white bandages and gauze so that only bits of his brown hair stuck out. There was a cannula wrapped around his nose, but no breathing tube, which Sam figured was at least a small victory. Dean’s pallor was the most worrying thing though. While it wasn’t stark white, it was more grey than peachy like he was used to.</p>
<p>Sam wasn’t sure how long they had been standing there, but eventually Marian broke the silence.</p>
<p>“I can read off the full report,” she offered, and looked between them again.</p>
<p>Sam kept his eyes trained on his brother. There were a few more words said, a few more glances, and then Cas and Marian were headed outside the room, leaving the door only cracked open as they did so.</p>
<p>And then Sam was alone with his unconscious brother.</p>
<p>He vaguely registered their muted conversation from outside the door, but that’s all it was: muted. Much louder in his brain were the various beeps and whirs and little moving lines that were making sure his brother was more or less stable. Sam wasn’t unfamiliar with the noises, again, he had just gotten away from his own, but he never wanted to be in the hospital again surrounded by those noises for Dean.</p>
<p>Hospitals were notorious for not delivering good news for his brother, to no fault of their own. Even when they were kids, a broken arm was worse than it should have been. A decade ago, a heart attack was going to end Dean’s life. Half a decade ago, a beating at the hands of Alistair messed him up for the better part of a week.</p>
<p>Last year there was Corbin and the bullet in Sam’s side and the story of what went on in the hospital that Dean refused to recount under any circumstances.</p>
<p>So it was no surprise that as Sam pulled up the empty chair next to Dean’s bed, his hands were shaking. Just once, wouldn’t a plane crash, hypothermia, concussion, and bruised body be enough? Did they have to wait for another shoe to drop? Sam dropped his head into his hands before running them through his hair. Chuck was gone, they didn’t exactly want angel attention, who was there left to pray to? To ask for some small, minuscule amount of mercy that they probably deserved after years of crap luck?</p>
<p>No one.</p>
<p>Sam took another shaky breath from his aching lungs and raised his head to look at his brother. Up close, he could see various other scratches on Dean’s face that marred his otherwise freckled skin. He was paler up close and much too still. Dean was also face up, which was more unnerving, considering he was a hardcore stomach sleeper. Everything about his brother in front of him was just…off in one way or another.</p>
<p>Still, after a moment of contemplation, he reached a free hand up to grasp Dean’s left. He didn’t jerk at the touch of cold flesh anymore, but it was far from a comforting feeling. Still, if Dean were conscious, he’d be making fun of Sam for just staring at him and not saying anything. But what was there to say? A simple ‘hey how are you feeling?’ didn’t exactly cut it.</p>
<p>“Cas drove here. Hope you’re not too pissed,” he said quietly, his voice breaking just a bit. “I mean, you told me not to drive, so he was the only other option. But bright side, your Baby’s back,” Sam quirked a smile as he looked over Dean, half expecting him to wake up at that very statement.</p>
<p>“So how about you get your lazy ass out of bed and take her for a spin?”</p>
<p>The question was met with more beeps and wheezes and unnatural sounds. Sam nodded and clenched his jaw; what had he expected? Some miraculous Hallmark movie waking up moment? He knew better.</p>
<p>Sam lost track of how long he sat by Dean’s bed, a position which he had become all too familiar with over the years. When the door opened to reveal Cas with a cup of coffee, he figured it must have taken at least a little while.</p>
<p>Cas passed off the cup to Sam, who took it with an appreciative smile after letting Dean’s hand go. “How is he?” Cas asked quietly, his voice breaking through the repetitive beeping that had taken up residence in Sam’s head. He pulled up the other chair next to Sam’s and sat down in it as he waited for a reply.</p>
<p>“Okay? I guess? He’s just…” Sam wasn’t quite sure how to finish. “He’ll be fine, he just needs some time.” Yeah, that was it. He ran a hand down his face and took a sip of the hospital coffee, which he had not missed. “What did Marian say?”</p>
<p>Cas took a moment to reply. “In short, his condition is…complicated,” he started, and shook his head. “In longer terms, his ribs and body should heal fine, but the hypothermia did some damage, and they’re worried about the effect it may have had on his head injury, which probably occurred at the time of the crash. They expected him to wake up sometime soon. Since he hasn’t yet though, he is officially…comatose.”</p>
<p>Sam stilled at that word, and Cas must have seen it, because he stopped for a few seconds before continuing.</p>
<p>“They’re planning on moving him up to the ICU tonight once some of the other survivors get moved around.”</p>
<p>Sam took the new knowledge in with nothing but a stoic nod and another nail of worry into his slightly freaked out coffin. He had been waiting for the other shoe, and that was it.</p>
<p>Dean…in a coma.</p>
<p>Things hadn’t been that bad since Dad was still with them…</p>
<p>“I…I can’t heal something of this degree anymore, Sam, I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Sam wasn’t expecting that and turned to find the angel’s eyes on him, utterly defeated in a way the hunter had seldom seen. Sam immediately shook his head and turned a bit more towards him.</p>
<p>“No, Cas, don’t be sorry. You drove almost two days straight to get here, to get us here, that’s the most you could have done. You’ve patched us up so many times over the years, Cas, there won’t ever be any hard feelings. Thank you,” he gave his friend a tired, but wholly appreciative smile.</p>
<p>Cas thought it over for a second before he too, nodded. “Once he wakes up, they’ll know better how to treat him,” he added.</p>
<p>“Wait and see,” Sam muttered, putting a hand under his chin to lean his head against before he took another sip of his coffee.</p>
<p>They sat like that for a few hours, waiting and doing less seeing than either one wanted. Throughout that time, they both filled out various pieces of paperwork and kept their eyes on the news for any new information about the crash. There were still survivors coming in, but the rate was slower now that a few days had passed.</p>
<p>Eventually, afternoon started to turn to evening. It was then that Cas sent Sam downstairs to the cafeteria to get food and take his medicine, with a repeatedpromise to watch over Dean in his absence.</p>
<p>Sam picked a corner table for two people, sat down, ate the food that tasted like nothing with every bite he took, and washed down his pills with more coffee. Before he knew it, he was back up in Dean’s room, feeling about the same as he had before, and they resumed their prior positions.</p>
<p>Once the clock hit nine, Marian was back to tap on the door, announcing that visiting hours were over.</p>
<p>Sam figured Dean would have fought to stay by his bedside, and he had, but after the day Sam had been through, there wasn’t much fight in him to argue and possibly get kicked out. “Know of any places to stay for the night on the less expensive side?” Sam asked, having not seen many cheap little motels in the sprawling metropolis that was New York.</p>
<p>Marian thought for a moment before she nodded. “‘bout…five miles east there’s a few. About a hundred per night, but there’s free wifi and some have breakfast. That’s the best I got,” she explained with a small smile.</p>
<p>Sam looked to Cas, who shrugged, seeming rather indifferent regarding the topic of motels. “That’s great, thank you.” He cast another glance to Dean and out of the corner of his eye watched Cas do the same. “Can you-can you have someone call if-“</p>
<p>“If anything happens, one of the on duty staff will contact you,” Marian gently cut him off and assured. She waited another few moments before she ushered them out of the room. “You two have a nice night, get some rest.” She regarded the two of them, smiled again, and started off back down the hallway.</p>
<p>Sam and Cas stayed in the hallway for another minute or so, silently contemplating what to do.</p>
<p>“Free wifi, that should be helpful,” Cas mentioned, looking over Sam, who wasn’t exactly keen on moving. “We’ll come back first thing, Sam,” he added, to which the younger brother nodded, as if he needed the extra reassurance.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam replied absently, “let’s see what New York motels are made of.”</p>
<p>As they began walking away from the room, Sam half expected to hear a flurry of alarming noises coming from Dean’s room, but there was nothing. As they walked, the beeping gradually blended into the rest of the sounds in the hospital until Sam couldn’t hear it any more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They ended up checking into the Bluebird motel, which was only four or so miles from the hospital, and traffic hadn’t been exactly awful. It was definitely better than some of the motels they had stayed at, as Dean may need a few days out of the hospital before they could hit the road again.</p>
<p>Sam waited in the car while Cas got them checked in, and soon they were in another generic motel room. Two beds, bathroom, tiny kitchenette, the usual. Of course, their situation was anything but usual, but at least the familiar scenery helped a little.</p>
<p>Sam finished up his next mental list by taking a shower (which was done with some amount of difficulty), checking his injury, changing bandages, then food, meds, and bed. It was a rather monotonous list, as many of his mental ones tended to be, but it kept him busy.</p>
<p>When he got out of the shower, Cas had taken up residence on the bed closest to the door. He was fully clothed, sitting on top of the covers, and flipping through various channels on the television. Sam couldn’t figure if the angel had done it on purpose or not, but having another person in the bed that had been empty in their last few stops was a bit of a comfort.</p>
<p>“I’ll keep the volume low, visiting hours open again at ten, so I set an alarm for nine,” Cas explained as he turned down the volume, having settled on some old black and white movie.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Cas,” Sam smiled a little and got into his own bed, looking at the movie for a few minutes with Cas.</p>
<p>“I remember when you, well not you specifically, but your species, first discovered recording,” Cas said, almost wistfully, eyes still on the old film in front of them. “Of course, they were nothing but many pictures taken in succession and flipped through quickly, but they were very proud. Eventually they tried adding music, and cards with words on them. You flocked to these features, and you still do, even though the black and white films have become less common. I still find them enjoyable, another reminder of how far humanity has come. Do you like black and white features, Sam?”</p>
<p>He turned to look at Sam, and a small smile crossed his face when he saw the younger Winchester had fallen asleep at his rambling, just as the angel had hoped he would.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Sam could say that things moved in slow motion after he was shot, but in all honesty, they didn’t. The pain spread through his chest and down his limbs like someone had put gasoline in his veins and set his chest on fire. It rushed through and consumed him, making him almost limp across the ground as the werewolf tried to dig its claws into him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Luckily for Sam, he never got the chance, as there was a final gunshot and the body jerked and rolled to the side of him. He would have been relieved had it not been for the fact that he couldn’t get much more than half a breath in.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Sammy?” Dean called as he put his gun back and ran to Sam’s side, dropping down next to him to assess the damage. He pulled away Sam’s jacket and looked at the entrance wound, hoping there was an exit one too. “Hang on, Sammy, just a quick check.“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam gasped as Dean gently lifted up his shoulder to check for an exit wound from his back.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “We’ve got an exit wound, you’ll be just fine,” Dean assured quickly, and let Sam gently back to the ground as he looked around frantically for something to use to stop the bleeding. Having found nothing in the room, Dean stood up and went into the kitchen, where he was sure he had seen a towel earlier before everything went to hell.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam was still on the ground and gasping when he got back with a hand towel and pressed it gently to his wound. “Okay okay okay,” he muttered, and Sam could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Okay, I can’t patch this up here, Sam, and I know how much you hate hospitals but—“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It was how much they both hated hospitals that was making Dean hesitate. Sam’s heart began pumping even faster when he realized that Dean had admitted, with no fight or argument, that Sam needed a hospital. It meant that this was bad.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Gotta get you up, back to Baby, and those nice hospital folks will get you patched up, good as new, how does that sound, Sammy?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam didn’t nod or agree or smile, he just gave his brother a look that he hoped he perceived as understanding. Of course Dean did, he knew how to read his baby brother like a book, even when he was hurt. Especially when he was hurt.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Okay, on three, we’re getting you up, keep pressure on that,” Dean directed. He placed one of Sam’s hands onto the towel that was covering the front of the wound and Sam pressed as much as he could without blacking out. Dean gave him a count of three as promised; this was no time for skipping two and three to avoid thinking about the pain to come from, say, a dislocated shoulder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Spots danced in front of Sam’s eyes as Dean practically heaved him off the ground and got one arm slung around his shoulder, the other one still holding the towel to the wound. “See? Easy peasy,” Dean muttered, to which Sam weakly nodded. There would have been more groaning on Sam’s part, but that would require opening his mouth and using his lungs more than he had to.“You good to start walking?” It wasn’t as much of a question as it was a statement, because they needed to go, but Sam nodded again all the same.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With leaning half his body onto Dean, they managed to make it out of the cabin and into the forest. “See? Easy. No more werewolves to take out, the car’s closer, you got me here to annoy you, we’re much better off than last time. All we need is a chauffeur to the hospital.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean’s attempts to bring levity to the situation were somewhat working, as this scenario was better than the last werewolf hunt they had been on. Though Sam still definitely did not appreciate being shot and he missed being able to breathe properly and—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hey, hey, hey, Sammy, need you to stay upright,” Dean chided gently, but even in his not fully there state, Sam could hear the worry underneath his words. He straightened up a bit more and they continued stumbling towards the car through the forest.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> All the while, Sam couldn’t help but think that this hunt was a perfect mix of two of the worst scenarios they had practically ever had. A was the obvious other werewolf hunt and B…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam looked to his brother through bangs that had fallen down in front of his face. B…Sam holding Dean up with a hand to stop a chest wound after being stabbed by Metatron. Both of those scenarios hadn’t ended well for either of them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Yeah, well this one will be different.” Dean’s voice shocked him a bit, how could he have known what he was thinking? “Your brain to mouth filter is even worse than usual, Sammy, quit thinking and walk, this will all end fine, you’ll see.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam registered that they had stopped for a moment for Dean to look up at him, determination and worry both set in his eyes. It could have just been Sam’s eyes playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn that Dean looked a shade paler upon hearing what Sam had said. When they started walking again, it was at a faster pace, and Sam knew exactly why. He didn’t exactly speak his mind unless he was a bit delirious, and severe blood loss could do that to a person and…he should probably stop thinking.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The further they walked, the more Sam began leaning on Dean for literal support until his brother was the only thing propping him up. The dark leaves and twigs beneath their feet began to blur and the trees seemed to spin around them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean must have noticed this because he started talking. Sam wasn’t sure about what specifically, but he was rambling on about something. He’d get words here or there. A band name, or a favorite food, or a question as to why Sam liked something that Dean hated, namely…was it salads in this case? Whatever it was, it kept a half smirk, half grimace on Sam’s face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They kept walking and Dean kept talking, his voice low and steady next to Sam’s head. While the world kept spinning, that was the one thing that stayed the same, and Sam used it as an anchor.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His chest burned and hurt and felt something awful. He couldn’t get a full breath in at all, and out was even more shaky. Besides walking and listening to Dean, he was really just focusing on not coughing, because that definitely wouldn’t help things.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> When he stumbled over a branch that he couldn’t see in his darkening vision, Dean was there to quickly right him and prop him up again. “You good?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam would have loved to reply “oh yeah, aces, just a hole in my chest”, but he couldn’t. Dean took his free hand and pushed Sam’s hair back for a moment so he could see his face. Even in the darkness, Sam could tell his hand was shaking a bit. He rested it on the side of Sam’s face and nodded, mainly to himself. “Of course you’re good, you’ve only got a freaking hole in your chest and can’t breathe or talk, right, Sammy?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam’s smirk must have been enough of a give away because Dean lightly tapped the side of Sam’s face in reassurance before they started walking again. Of course he knew what Sam was thinking, and Sam hadn’t expected anything less.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Eventually, after being trapped in his head for who knew how long, Dean excitedly announced that they were back at the car. Sam looked up through bleary eyes and a gaze half hidden by sweat drenched bangs, but there Baby was, gleaming ever so slightly in the dark forest. He would have let out a sigh of relief, but he…couldn’t.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “We’ll get you nice and situated and on our way to a hospital in no time,” Dean kept muttering. He talked more when he got nervous. It wasn’t anything important, just little nothings meant to reassure Sam as much as himself. He maneuvered the two of them to the passenger side and opened the door with his semi-free hand. “You’ve gotta sit down for me, Sammy, okay?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam nodded as much as he could, knowing the change in position and more compression on his chest wouldn’t feel any better. Dean lowered Sam onto the seat as easily and gently as he could, but Sam still groaned at the spikes of pain the whole way down. When he was finally situated, it was barely inside the car.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Okay, stay upright for ten seconds, let me grab the med kit, okay?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> There it was again, the ‘okay?’ as if he expected Sam to reply but knew he wouldn’t. Sam nodded again and Dean closed the door after making sure Sam was clear. As promised, ten seconds and some rummaging around in the trunk later, the guns they had brought with them were replaced with a med kit that Dean brought around to the front seat before he too sat down and closed the door.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Gauze gauze gauze,” he muttered under his breath as he hurriedly flipped through the kit, bloodstained fingers leaving marks all over the white plastic. “Aha! Bingo!” he said triumphantly, and held up a wad of white fabric.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam tried to quirk a smile at his brother, but he ended up just somewhat falling over onto his shoulder, which was better than the door in his mind.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “There we go, get comfortable, I’m just gonna switch this out real fast, then you keep pressure on it, you hear?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam blinked in affirmation, which was easier to do than nodding. Dean carefully moved Sam’s hand away and surveyed the wound for a split second before he swapped out the towel for the wad of gauze and placed Sam’s hand back on it. Sam figured he must gave gone a shade paler, because the sudden fear in Dean’s eyes was enough to make Sam’s heart start pumping a bit faster than it already was.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “On the road again,” Dean muttered quickly and turned the Impala on, threw it into drive, and began racing out the way they had come.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> With the absence of music, the only sound in the car aside from the usual rumbling of the engine were Sam’s increasingly wheezing breaths. He leaned more against Dean’s shoulder, using it to keep himself upright.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The minimal streetlights on the highway or…wherever they were passed by faster than they should have, so either he was imagining things or Dean was driving much too quickly. It was probably a combination of both if he thought of it. It was-</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Sammy, I need you to stay awake and upright, okay? Almost there, man, hang on,” he said hurriedly, and spared his brother a glance from the road. He looked back to the windshield before he reached his right hand up and pressed it against Sam’s wound, adding some extra pressure where Sam’s had been gradually failing.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Even in his state, he could tell that the gauze was starting to soak through. The Impala slowed with Dean’s new driving position, but they kept moving all the same.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Kept moving and moving and moving and soon trees turned into buildings and…Sam’s dizzy mind couldn’t keep up with it all. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he suddenly couldn’t get a breath in. He pressed on the gauze a bit harder, gasping as the added pressure did nothing to help the drowning in his lungs.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Sam? Sam? What’s going on, talk to me,” Dean commanded, his voice low and thick with worry and fear. He pressed his hand harder to the wound and his foot down on the gas. “Breathe, man, ride it out.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam wished he could tell Dean that’s exactly what he was trying to do, he knew what he should be doing, but he couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t, and with a lack of blood and a lack of air, darkness began taking over his vision.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His head began to lull to the side and his hand went lax over the gauze.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Sam? Sammy! Hang on, okay, almost into town, I need you to stay awake for me, I can’t pull off to wake you up and get you to a hospital at the same time. Sam? Sa—“</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That was all Sam got before he went limp against the seat, the buildings and streetlights vanishing under the waves of blackness.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this chapter was all a flashback, but I hope it was still enjoyable to read! It pretty much ties up the past events aside from one other snippet in a few chapters. I really appreciate all the feedback on the last chapter, I'm so happy you guys have been liking the journey so far :) Unfortunately my university started up again this week, so I haven't had time to edit a chapter for Sunday, so the next update will be Thursday. Trust me, you won't want to miss this one ;) some fun stuff coming up in the next few installments. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the feedback on the last chapter, I'm so happy you're enjoying it! I hope that trend continues with this chapter ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>November 19 5:32pm</em>
</p>
<p>The door to the room opening and closing was what brought Sam back out of the memory. The darkness faded away to the stark white lights of the hospital and the Impala’s leather seat was replaced with a semi-comfortable hospital chair. Cas was standing in the doorway with another cup of coffee, and offered Sam a smile before he passed it down to him.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said appreciatively, grateful for another aid to help keep him up.</p>
<p>“It was no trouble,” the angel shook his head and sat down in the other chair. His eyes ghosted over Dean, still in the coma, before they settled back on Sam. “How did your call go?”</p>
<p>“Good,” Sam nodded and honestly smiled for the first time that day. “Yeah, just Jody’s usual monthly check in. I filled her in and she wanted to come right down here, I told her we had it handled and we’d call if we needed anything. Alex and Claire are both safe and doing well,” he added.</p>
<p>After almost a week filled with nothing but beeping, a comatose Dean, and a not so talkative Cas, it had been nice to hear a different voice. It was always good to talk to Jody, but this time was especially helpful. Not just for the reassurances, but for a few other things.</p>
<p>Four days passed by with the two of them sitting around before Sam started looking for things on his phone. Simple odd cases that anyone could handle. He passed them off to other hunters that he knew wouldn’t mind a few days of work, given that he and Cas were quite preoccupied but still wanted to help.</p>
<p>Jody had been able to fill in some missing information for a few cases, which went a long way. Until Dean woke up, that was how they were keeping busy and avoiding thinking about worst cases scenarios too much.</p>
<p>Sam had gotten an email from Mick a day after the meeting was supposed to have been held, and, following a few more messages back and forth of explaining, they had settled on the fact that they would discuss the matter further after Dean was back to a hundred percent.</p>
<p>Cas had a fond smile on his face as he nodded back. “That is definitely good news, thank you for checking in with them.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no problem,” Sam replied before he lightly closed his laptop. “Any news on this end of the spectrum?”</p>
<p>Cas shrugged his shoulders a bit. “I spoke briefly with Dr. Monroe about his condition, and he seemed to believe that Dean should be waking up soon. Unless they missed something in the scans, he had a relatively high GCS, which should lend itself to a higher rate of survival and less permanent injuries…” Cas trailed off and shook his head a little.</p>
<p>“Of course, every case is different, it just depends on Dean. Though, I have been reading, and some people believe that they can hear what is said around them, even in this state.”</p>
<p>Sam cast another glance towards Dean, as he had been reading up on similar facts. It was an interesting idea, and in a way it was also strangely comforting. Sam had been talking to him a lot in hopes that maybe just his voice and presence would bring him around again.</p>
<p>Everything he talked about was positive. Good memories, some talk about rock music, different meals Dean could try to cook when he got better. Because somewhere deep in Sam’s mind, he knew that if Dean was struggling to come out of the coma, he needed something to come out for. While Sam himself would probably be enough, some reminders that the world wasn’t all crap couldn’t hurt the situation.</p>
<p>“I found that to be…oddly comforting in a way,” Cas mentioned, his head slightly tilted as he too looked to the hunter in the bed. Dean’s complexion was a bit better, as it had been becoming less grey over the past few days. His head was still thoroughly bandaged though.</p>
<p>Sam let out a breathy laugh between his hand, which he had brought up to rest on his chin. He caught the questioning look Cas threw him and just shook his head slightly. “Was just thinking the same thing,” he replied. They stayed like that for the better part of fifteen minutes, just sitting and watching, as if the mere talk of Dean getting out of the coma could make it happen.</p>
<p>“You mind watching him? I gotta stretch my legs, you know…”</p>
<p>Cas nodded in affirmation. “Of course, Sam, take as long as you need.”</p>
<p>Sam smiled appreciatively and got up out of the chair, leaving his laptop in his place. His joints cracked a bit as he did so, but the pain in his chest was less intense. One positive of being cooped up in a hospital all day long was that he wasn’t doing strenuous activity to stress out the wound, so it could actually heal.</p>
<p>Even in their week or so there, they had developed their own little habits. Two or three times a day, Sam would take a walk around the hospital to get some fresh air. If there were no problems with Dean and the weather was decent, he’d walk to one of the parks that was nearby, loop around it, and be back in twenty minutes. Of course, nice was relative when it came to New York.</p>
<p>As long as the temperature didn’t dip below forty-five and there weren’t small piles of snow on the ground, a walk was possible. Sam was just glad they had remembered to pack plenty of jackets before the trip.</p>
<p>If he was stir crazy when Dean woke up, that wouldn’t be beneficial, so he was trying to make the best of a bad situation. A little bit of cold air did good to wake him up and keep him moving. By the time Sam came back, his head was a bit clearer and he was ready for another few hours of brotherly watch duty.</p>
<p>Every time when he came back, he did so slowly and quietly. The past few days, Cas had been talking to Dean, similarly to what Sam himself did when he was in the room alone. The first time he noticed it, he…didn’t, and walked in on Cas in the middle of a sentence, mouth still open when Sam came in. He hadn’t meant to disturb the angel, so every time following, he had always approached slowly. Sam stood by the door for a few seconds, comforted by the sound of the angel’s voice in the room. Angels were in fact watching over his brother, and it made Sam smile.</p>
<p>“-doing well. He’d be doing better if the situation were better, but he’s alright, I just wanted to assure you of that.”</p>
<p>By catching the tail end of that conversation, Sam hurried into the room, half expecting Dean to be suddenly awake and up in bed, talking like nothing had happened. When he got into the room, it was still Cas in the chair, a bit more bent over towards Dean than before. Dean’s eyes were still closed.</p>
<p>“Sam? Did you have a good walk?” Cas asked, not missing a beat even with Sam’s hurried entrance.</p>
<p>“Hm? Yeah, it was fine, sun’s out today, makes the cold a bit more bearable,” Sam nodded. He took off his two jackets and hung them up on the back of the chair. He then picked up his laptop again and let it rest in his lap as he went to sit down.</p>
<p>The silence in the room was only broken up by the beeping, which had become more consistent over the past few days. The doctors assured them that this was a good sign, but Sam was still wary of any dramatic changes.</p>
<p>Sam was going back and forth in his head about whether or not to look for another case when the beeping began to speed up. It was an audible increase in beats, and it had Sam up and out of his seat before anything else could happen.</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Cas asked, visibly worried as he too got up and looked over Dean from the other side of the bed.</p>
<p>“I…I don’t know,” Sam said quietly. He had Dean’s hand in his again, which wasn’t as cold as it had been before. He was bent slightly over his brother, his other hand hovering over the call button in case something should be going very, very wrong. “Dean? You up?”</p>
<p>It was a question that went floating through the air in the room, but didn’t meet any ears besides Cas’ and his own. The increased beeping continued, but didn’t get any higher, and there weren’t any other visible signs of stress. Maybe he was just…dreaming?</p>
<p>Sam kept perfectly still for the next five or so minutes, worried that any movement on his part would make something happen, good or bad he didn’t know.</p>
<p>“Sam?” the angel asked, having not moved from his own position.</p>
<p>The younger brother’s eyes were still on his older sibling. “Yeah, I think he’s okay, probably just…dreaming, I don’t know,” he shook his head, his own heart still pounding in his chest, as if waiting for an attack. Sam dropped his finger from the call button and sighed. It only took another second for him to make up his mind that his chair needed to be closer, and started to get up to bring it in.</p>
<p>His hand loosened in Dean’s a bit so he could reach back, but as he did so, his hand didn’t want to go back any further. That was when he felt a slight tickle on his palm and immediately turned back around.</p>
<p>“Dean?” Sure enough, his brother’s fingers were curled around his own, where they hadn’t been before. Of course, it could just be an unconscious comatose movement, but Sam was hoping for better. He needed better after this past week. “If you’re awake, I need you to give me a sign, man, so this isn’t just comatose muscle movements or something.”</p>
<p>Cas was eyeing the brothers curiously from Dean’s other side, waiting for signs of movement as well. They were waiting for signs of…anything, really.</p>
<p>But there wasn’t anything. Dean’s hand remained curled around Sam’s, a bit more than before, but it stayed that way. Any time Sam tried to reach back to grab the chair, his brother’s grip stopped him. He was holding onto Sam, consciously or not.</p>
<p>Eventually Cas moved Sam’s chair closer so he could sit down and then moved his own and sat down on the opposite side. Sam continued to watch his brother closely, only changing his perspective to look at the monitors by the bed. Dean’s breathing was consistent, as was his slightly elevated pulse.</p>
<p>Every so often, Sam would jostle their hands a bit, hoping for another bit of movement, but it never came.</p>
<p>If Dean were in the room, he’d probably be laughing at the scene in front of him and how much it looked like a damned movie. Through the laughing though, he’d tell Sam to quit his worrying because he’d be fine and he’d make a full recovery. A little traumatic brain injury wasn’t going to keep Dean Winchester down, and Sam should know better.</p>
<p>He’d probably more or less apologize eventually, having seen that his joking was grating on Sam, who wasn’t happy about the fact that he had almost lost his brother again. Dean would sober up, and again assure Sam that he was fine and that he wasn’t going anywhere.</p>
<p>If only he’d just wake up, that’s how Sam was guessing the scenario would play itself out. They’d been here too many times, Sam knew how it was supposed to go. He knew that—</p>
<p>In the middle of his mental ramblings and worrying, the pressure on his hand increased again. Sam immediately looked back over his brother and squeezed his hand back. He wasn’t expecting anything, it was just an unconscious muscle response to Sam’s hand, an added pressure of sorts. Which was why when Dean squeezed back, ever so slightly, but it was there, Sam’s face lit up in a smile.</p>
<p>“Cas, I think he’s—“ Sam started excitedly, and looked up to see Cas smiling at the two of them too. “De—“ he cut himself off again when he looked back to Dean.</p>
<p>Because staring back at him, through bleary, partially unfocused eyes, was Dean. Tired and probably not all there in the best capacity, but <em>awake.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun dunnnnnnnnn! Progress has been made, I told you guys you wouldn't want to miss it! If anyone has any reactions I'd love to hear them ;) and lucky for you guys the next chapter is ready to go, so I'll see you all on Sunday again! Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t until Dean’s eyes were open that Sam realized how much he had missed seeing them. It had been almost ten days since Dean had looked back at him, and that very simple gesture meant the world in that very moment.</p>
<p>Still, Sam got over his shock and squeezed Dean’s hand again before he pressed the call button, hoping that Marian or someone else would be able to get into the room before Dean passed out again.</p>
<p>“Dean? Are you…” Cas trailed off, not sure how to finish his question. Dean’s eyes tiredly drifted over to Cas, and Sam watched the usually unfazed angel visibly tense up at the gaze. Eventually Dean looked back over to Sam, but nothing else moved besides his eyes and his hand a bit in Sam’s.</p>
<p>A minute later, there was a slight tap at the door and Marian walked in. “Got the buzz at the station, there a problem?” she asked, clipboard in hand. As she walked up closer to the bed, she smiled upon seeing that Dean was up. “Tired, but green nonetheless,” she nodded, and jotted a few things down onto her notepad before she looked to Sam and Cas.</p>
<p>“If you don’t mind going into the waiting room, I just need to check a few things, see how he is, shouldn’t take longer than fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>Sam was reluctant to leave Dean’s side so soon after he had woken up, but he knew better than to fight with a nurse in the ICU. “Thanks,” he nodded back and stood up. It took a moment to get Dean’s hand disengaged from his own, and afterwards Dean’s eyes didn’t leave him.</p>
<p>Cas followed suit and soon the two of them were out the door and on their way to the waiting room. They sat down unceremoniously in semi-cracked chairs with a collective sigh before Sam ran a hand over his face. Dean had been in the coma, what, eight days? Most comas lasted one to two weeks from what he read, so while it wasn’t exactly a good scenario, it could have been a lot worse.</p>
<p>“It is good to see him awake again,” Cas said, almost absently. Sam cast a glance over his friend, who was smiling to himself at he stared at the empty wall across from where they were seated.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Sam agreed. “He’ll probably be really tired for a few days, but hopefully he can build up from here and eventually work his way back to normal. Best case scenarios and all.”</p>
<p>Cas nodded back in agreement and the two of them sat in silence until Marian came back, clipboard and capped pen in hand. In her other, she carried Sam’s laptop and jackets. The two men rose to greet her and she smiled a bit. “How is he?” Cas asked before Sam could get the words out.</p>
<p>Marian passed off Sam’s things to him before she replied. “Resting now. The first few days after a patient has been in a coma are critical, they usually don’t remain up for very long, but eventually they can hold small conversations and gradually build up,” Marian informed. “It’s definitely a relief to see him awake,” she said and looked at something on the sheet.</p>
<p>Sam knew the look on her face well enough; it was one he had to wear himself many times in their line of work. It was the look of bad news to come. “Is there a ‘but’ to follow that?” he asked quietly.</p>
<p>She finished looking at a few papers for another moment before she looked up and sighed. “Hard to say. We’ll see how he progresses over the next few days. He just woke up, so there was no attempt at verbal communication just yet. Some of his scans showed what could be damage, but we’d have to get another, more recent scan to see if it’s healed.”</p>
<p>“Damage? As in brain damage?” Sam clarified, pretty sure that he had gone a shade paler at the mere thought of it. Hunting aside, brain damage was never something to be taken lightly, especially after a plane crash. He looked back to Cas, who had a similar expression to his own on his face as he took in the information.</p>
<p>Years ago before the angels fell, he could have probably fixed something like this with nothing more than a touch on the forehead and some angel juice. Now, they had to deal with it like everyone else.</p>
<p>“As in brain damage,” Marian affirmed. “It could be nothing, again, we’ll have to wait and see how he progresses. I’m going to see if we can’t get him in for a scan tonight, it’s unlikely he’ll be up much again.” She took a quick glance at her watch. “You two should probably head back to where you’re staying, just let him rest for tonight, we’ll fill you in when you come back in the morning.”</p>
<p>Sam tried to nod because of course she was right, but Dean had just woken up. He should be there beside him in case anything happened and Dean needed him. Dean was always there when Sam needed him, so he had to reciprocate what had been done for all those years. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Marian gave him a small smile, looked to Cas, and nodded. “Trust me on this one, Sam.”</p>
<p>“I do, not saying I don’t, I just want to make sure,” Sam corrected quickly, but Marian was already politely holding up a hand.</p>
<p>“I know you are. Worrying in the room won’t help anything. So you two get some rest, Dean will get some rest, and we’ll all meet back in the morning, alright?”</p>
<p>Again, Cas was the one nodding for both of them even though he still looked deep in thought. “We understand, thank you, Marian.”</p>
<p>She smiled again and turned to leave. “You two drive safe now, if anything comes up, someone will contact you.” She waited for another moment before she started walking back the way she came, still carrying the clipboard and pen.</p>
<p>The angel and the hunter kept standing in the waiting room, unsure of what to do next. Sam kept looking between his laptop, the floor, and Cas until the angel jingled the Impala’s keys in his pocket and sighed.</p>
<p>“In the morning then,” he said quietly. “Come on, Sam, some rest will do you some good.”</p>
<p>Again, Sam couldn’t fight that fact, and it would be pointless to do so. Cas began walking down the hall towards the elevator, shoes echoing on the tile floor. Sam cast another glance down the hall where they had come from, where his now partially awake brother lie all alone. Sam followed Cas down the hallway before he could turn around and go back to Dean.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>The first thing Sam registered when he started coming to was that the car had stopped. He wasn’t sure how long it had been stopped for, but it couldn’t have been long because it was still warm inside. The next thing he registered was that he was no longer propped up against Dean because Dean was no longer in the car.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “D’n?” he breathed out and blinked, trying to clear some of the fog from his vision as if it would help. He tried twisting to see if he was getting something out of the trunk, which only reignited the fire in his lungs and made sure that the next few moments were spend in complete stillness.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Eventually, the car door opened and a flurry of voices began pouring in. Dean’s was the first that he recognized, and it turned out to be the only one. His hand was light and comforting on his shoulder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Heya, Sammy, good to see you up. Listen, we’re here at the hospital, and we need to get you out of the car so these nice doctors and nurses can patch you up, alright?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam was sure that if he could have seen Dean, he would have been half smiling to hide the fact that he was deathly worried about his little brother bleeding out on the Impala’s seats. He wanted to remind his brother that he wasn’t five anymore, but instead he just nodded weakly, though moving wasn’t sounding like the best option at the moment.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Great. Just hang on and stay awake for me, okay?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> There it was again, the ‘alright?’, the ‘okay?’, as if Sam had any say in the matter. He wasn’t going anywhere, if he had any say in that at least.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Before he knew it, there were multiple hands on him gently sliding him towards the passenger side door of the car.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “We’ve got a gurney here and we’re going to get you up and then laid out onto it, Sam, I need you to stay with us,” came a new voice, a young female if he was hearing correctly. Sam blinked slowly in affirmation that yes, he had heard and understood even though he’d much rather not move and go back to being unconscious.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> There was a count to three and then he was lifted up onto the gurney and given a moment to try and catch his breath before he was laid down. Of course, catching his breath didn’t exactly work and he ended up painfully gasping more than anything else.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “There we go, see, nice and easy, like it always is, Sammy, they’re gonna take care of you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean was standing right above him in his field of vision as the people around him got the gurney set. There was a streak of blood on his cheek, probably from where he had absentmindedly wiped a hand across it. It was dark outside save for a few streetlights, but his eyes were still as green as ever. Someone attached some sort of oxygen mask to his face which first felt confining, but then vaguely freeing. From there, everything began to spin again and the gurney began to move, rough and grating under the wheels.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re gonna be just fine, just fine, you hang on for me, Sammy,” Dean reminded.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Soon they were passing through a set of doors and then another one and there were some very bright lights. It was only when the voices of everyone else started getting so loud that Sam realize he couldn’t hear Dean’s any more.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em> November 20, 10:47am</em>
</p>
<p>It had been eleven days since he had last heard Dean’s voice. And yeah, Sam was aware of how cheesy it sounded, which was why he would never repeat it to Dean directly, but still, the thought weighed on him.</p>
<p>Marian had been in earlier to tell them that Dean had been up a few more times, the longest being for a span of seven and a half minutes. There had been no talking, but there were a few blinks, so he was able to communicate to a degree. She did mention that he seemed very confused, but that was normal with patients coming out of a coma.</p>
<p>More worrying though than his confusion were unfortunately the scans. From what they could tell, it was possible that there was some damage to Dean’s hippocampus that he had endured when the plane went down. Again, it could just be nothing, but they were going to have to ‘wait and see how Dean progressed’. While it was a somewhat hopeful sentiment, because Dean was getting better, Sam was growing to hate it. He wanted to know what was wrong and what he could do to fix it, it was simple…and it wasn’t.</p>
<p>Since he and Cas had been in the room, Dean had woken up one more time, but it was just another few confused glances and then his eyes fell shut again. When Sam looked over to Cas, he could see that the angel was just as lost about what to do in the situation as he was.</p>
<p>Still, Dean was waking up and getting better, and Sam just had to keep reminding himself of that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, how exciting was that? Dean's up, we've wrapped up the flashbacks, progress is being made! The next chapter will be longer since a fair amount of stuff happens that believe me, you won't want to miss ;) Thanks to everyone for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>November 21, 12:52pm</em>
</p>
<p>The bandages on Dean’s head had been changed, and there didn’t seem to be any external complications, which was good. He had been up for half an hour at a time, but there was still no progress as to vocalization, he was just…silent and confused.</p>
<p>Sam had since limited his walks to once per day, half so that he could get a break and time to himself and half so that Cas would have some time to talk to Dean. When Cas was gone, Sam kept talking. He talked about memories, again, anything happy that may bring a smile to his brother’s face.</p>
<p>Right before one, Cas headed out again with the promise to return with something to eat. Sam nodded silently, the door was open and shut, and then it was just the steady beeping that filled the remaining silence.</p>
<p>“First time I ever broke a bone and had to stay overnight,” Sam began absently, looking between his brother in the bed and his hands in his lap, “you snuck in, I don’t know how, and brought me ice cream. The nurses were so pissed when they found out,” he chuckled just a little, “but it was the best night in a hospital that I ever had.”</p>
<p>When he looked back to Dean, the older hunter’s eyes were barely open and not totally focused, but still open. “So, um, sorry I haven’t brought you any ice cream yet, I know how much you hate hospitals.” Sam tried for a smile and moved his chair ever so slightly towards the bed so he could get a better look at Dean.</p>
<p>His eyes were open more now as he watched Sam, though he still seemed confused. It wasn’t a look that Sam often saw on his brother’s face, and it was never one he had gotten used to. Dean seemed to always know what to do, and even when he didn’t, the false bravado could convince anyone that he did.</p>
<p>“You with me?” Sam asked quietly. He waited, not expecting any kind of verbal response, but when Dean blinked slowly and then opened his eyes again to focus on Sam, he took it as a win. They had vaguely established a ‘one blink for yes, two for no’ system that had been working until he could get much of his speech back. “Missed, you, man, glad you’re back.”</p>
<p>There was another slow blink as if Dean were saying ‘me too’, at least that’s what made sense in Sam’s head.</p>
<p>“I mean, I know what you’d probably say, you’ve been here the whole time, where the hell was I, yadayada,” Sam shook his head and smirked.</p>
<p>Over the beeping and his own heart beating somewhat wildly at the prospect of being able to talk to Dean again, even though it was one sided, he almost missed the sound that came out of his brother’s mouth.</p>
<p>It was nothing more than an elongated ’s’, but Sam could see through Dean’s slightly scrunched features that he was trying as hard as he could. There was no doubt in his mind that the ’s’ belonged to him in some form.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Dean, it’s me, still here,” he said, with an actual smile this time, because this was actual progress. Sounds could turn into words which could turn into conversations and answers and no more worries.</p>
<p>Dean closed his mouth again and looked at Sam, still confused, as if he were trying to figure him out somehow. He wasn’t scared, he looked almost…wary, if Sam had to put a word on it.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” Sam looked around the room quickly, half expecting to see some creature lurking behind them or a nurse standing in the doorway observing their “conversation”. But there was nothing, and the room was empty aside from the two brothers.</p>
<p>Dean opened his mouth slowly, as if he were trying to figure out how to put what he wanted to say into two words, or two syllables, whatever he could manage. His eyes still blinked somewhat lazily, but there was an alertness in them that Sam hadn’t seen since he had been awake.</p>
<p>“ ‘old,” Dean muttered, his eyes looking right at Sam as if they could se through him.</p>
<p>Sam looked his brother over and nodded. “Cold, right? Yeah, I’ll see if I can grab another blanket, it gets cold in here and it’s literally freezing outside…” Sam trailed off because Dean was very visibly blinking his eyes twice in succession since he couldn’t shake his head. “Not…cold then? You’re good? No blankets?” Dean blinked once and Sam sagged back against the chair, not sure what he was supposed to do with that one word.</p>
<p>Dean did his best to repeat it again, to which Sam nodded again, still trying to decipher it. No other letters made sense in front of it, so was it just… “Old?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>Dean blinked once, as if he were relieved that Sam had finally gotten it, but he was still confused.</p>
<p>“What, I’m old? Dean, you’re the older brother in the hospital right now, if you could see in a mirror-“</p>
<p>Sam cut himself off again for a different reason, to take a look at the ground for a split second. Because if Dean could see how he looked, he definitely wouldn’t like the face he saw staring back at him. When Sam looked up, Dean was blinking again, just once, and it was Sam’s turn to be confused.</p>
<p>“First question? You’re saying I’m…old?” Sam asked, doubting that Dean would be agreeing with him on the second part of what he had mentioned.</p>
<p>Dean blinked again in agreement. Sam pushed a hand through his hair and let out a small sigh, completely lost as to what Dean meant. He was probably just still loopy, or he was commenting on how old Sam looked with being all tired and in a hospital chair…yeah, that was probably it.</p>
<p>“Too old to be babysitting you in a hospital,” Sam said quietly.</p>
<p>But no, that wasn’t it, either. Dean was still looking at him with the same exact quizzical expression. Every so often, his eyes would scrunch and his lips would open, but he would either decide against it or become too tired to follow up. He was trying to speak, to let Sam know what he needed and wanted to get across, but he couldn’t. The words were stuck, jumbled up in his own head as he struggled to make Sam understand.</p>
<p>And Sam didn’t understand. For as well as he knew his brother, they had never encountered something of this magnitude before. “Old?” What was Sam supposed to do with that? Go through every single possible meaning and scenario and find one that Dean blinked once for? If he could even stay up that long?</p>
<p>“I-I don’t,” Sam let out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean, Dean,” he admitted quietly, and dropped his gaze for a moment as he kept shaking his head. “I know you’re trying to say something important, I know it, and you know I’m trying to get it.”</p>
<p>One blink.</p>
<p>“But I just…I don’t, not yet, and I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>I’m sorry I wasn’t with you during all of this. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I’m sorry I don’t know what’s going on in that hurting head of yours. I’m sorry I can’t piece this together. I’m sorry that I haven’t come up with a way to fix this.</p>
<p>There were tens of ways that his apology could be interpreted, and Sam could see the gears trying to turn in Dean’s battered mind as he deciphered each meaning. Sam could still talk, and Dean could see behind it, even in his state, and Sam was utterly lost given that he couldn’t do the same.</p>
<p>“We’ll figure it out,” Sam sighed and nodded after a few moments of silence. “You’ll get back to normal, and we’ll go back to the Bunker and get you healed up.”</p>
<p>Dean blinked once again, but that confused look was still stuck on his face, and it only got worse when Sam mentioned the Bunker. Maybe he didn’t want to think about leaving the hospital just yet, Sam couldn’t blame him for it.</p>
<p>They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Marian came in for one of her checks, and smiled upon seeing Dean awake again. “There’s those pretty green peepers I like seeing,” she greeted happily, and went to get the clipboard on the bed to jot down a few things.</p>
<p>It may have been just Sam’s imagination, but he could have sworn he saw Dean’s mouth try to quirk upwards in a smirk.</p>
<p>“How is he?” Marian asked, which Sam knew Dean would hate, he hated when he was talked about in the third person when he was right there.</p>
<p>“Fine, yeah, good,” Sam nodded and smiled a bit back. “A few words, the blinking system is working so far.”</p>
<p>Marian nodded at that. “Sounds like you’re being a fairly decent recovery patient then, Dean. We’ll get you a on your feet in no time and have you transferred into another ward as soon as you’re feeling a bit better,” she looked between the two brothers.</p>
<p>Getting Dean out of the ICU would definitely be a step up, and a sort of light at the end of one of the many tunnels they would have to go through. Sam and Marian made light small talk as Marian did a few checks on Dean, asking him to squeeze her finger or follow a pen with his eyes. A few of the tests he didn’t necessarily pass, but the majority of them he was able to complete, which was as much of a sign of hope as Sam could expect.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>November 23, 11:47am</em>
</p>
<p>Sam was really growing to hate hospital chairs. They weren’t the best, nor the worst thing in the world, but after almost a week of just hospital chairs, it was getting taxing. Still, sitting in the hospital chair was giving Sam a fairly decent view of what was going on.</p>
<p>Dean had been up more the past few days, so the nurses were working on extending his range of motion, as he was progressing in terms of what his body could manage. Today, that was sitting up on the side of the bed.</p>
<p>One of the nurses was in front of Dean and Sam was sitting in the chair off to the side, facing his brother. Seeing him attempt to move was so much better than watching him, motionless and pale in the bed. Seeing him up and around was just another reminder that he was there and that he was getting better.</p>
<p>Cas was standing at the foot of the bed, watching the scenario unfold. Sam still caught a look on his face sometimes, when Dean couldn’t quite get words out or when he looked at them confused. Cas still looked…helpless, for lack of a better word. He wished he could help more, but he couldn’t quite put it into words, and Sam couldn’t correctly explain that Cas simply being there was all the help that he could give, and it would always be enough.</p>
<p>“Right, just going to get your legs off,” the nurse instructed, “nice and slow.”</p>
<p>Dean blinked once in affirmation, as a head nod or shake still hurt, but it was getting better. They had been able to downgrade from a complete wrapping to a semi-wrapping, as his wound was healing.</p>
<p>With some help from the nurse, he swung his legs off the bed and straightened his back. Ever the stubborn man, he blinked twice when the nurse tried to offer extra assistance.</p>
<p>“Really, don’t strain yourself,” she advised.</p>
<p>“Won’t do much good,” Sam mentioned with a bit of a smirk. Dean caught Sam’s look and sent something like a smile back his way. “If Dean’s anything other than a fast healer, he’s stubborn, and he can sit up by himself.”</p>
<p>The nurse looked back to Sam, a bit confused, to which Sam shook his head. “If he could talk, that’s what he’d say,” he explained.</p>
<p>She looked back to Dean with a bit of a smirk herself and shrugged. Dean took it as his opening and as soon as her hands dropped, he straightened again and braced his hands against the bed. Soon enough, he had his balance and his hands went to his knees and he was sitting up on the bed.</p>
<p>It was such a small thing and such a big thing at the exact same time that it had the whole room smiling. Even Dean, though he still looked wary and a bit annoyed at the fact that all he was doing was sitting. He could vault over fences and prop his feet up on tables, but hey, progress was progress.</p>
<p>“It’s nice to see you up, Dean,” Cas mentioned, to which Dean turned his head towards and smiled a bit again. It wasn’t up as in standing, but it was progress.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Over the next few days, Dean went from sitting to standing and eventually to taking a few steps around the room. He has control over his body, which the doctors assured both Sam and Cas was a good thing. He eventually got moved from the ICU to the High Dependency Unit, where he also began meeting with a physical therapist. This meant that for a few hours a day, usually in the mornings, Sam and Cas had more time to spend at the motel, as they couldn’t see Dean during that time.</p>
<p>The days became monotonous, but at least they were getting somewhere, Cas was sure to remind Sam of that. But still, the way Dean looked at him let Sam know that something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t shy away from Sam or Cas, but he was definitely still wary and confused.</p>
<p>The nurses assured that he could piece together a few sentences, but he hadn’t said much around Sam or Cas for reasons unknown. It could, again, just be his stubbornness, but Sam knew his brother well enough to know that he’d be talking as much as he could to assure them both that yes, he was okay, and that they needed more beauty sleep. But he hadn’t done anything of the sort, at least, not yet.</p>
<p>A week after Dean had been moved, Cas dropped Sam off at the hospital before he went back to the motel to help get some information on a case that they had handed off to one of the other hunters. Sam had assured him time and time again that yes, he was fine visiting Dean alone for a day, but Cas was still wary. Eventually, Sam was alone in the room with Dean and a looming promise over his head to text Cas once an hour or if something came up.</p>
<p>Dean had been looking at the small television in the corner of the room for the better part of fifteen minutes, but as soon as Sam shifted his position in his chair, Dean’s eyes were back on him. The same confusion and wariness were still present, even with all the assurances that Dean was healing a bit ahead of schedule.</p>
<p>“Dean…?” Sam finally broke the silence in the room as he leaned a bit forward in the chair. His brother shifted in the bed, but didn’t break his gaze with him. “You…you sure everything’s okay? You just keep looking at me like…I don’t know, but I also don’t know what to do about it, and you stopped talking to Cas and I…” he trailed off, waiting for an explanation that may never come.</p>
<p>Dean kept looking at him, and Sam could see the gears turning in his battered mind. Even now, Dean was debating on how much of the truth he should tell Sam.</p>
<p>“Look, Dean, don’t lie about this, not after everything, whatever you’re worried about, don’t, I need to know what’s going on,” Sam said honestly, but quietly. After all this time, he was too tired to beat around the bush when it came to Dean’s health and mental state, especially when something was so obviously wrong.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” was the quiet response from the hunter in the bed. Sam was half shocked by it, it was the first word he had heard from his brother in almost two weeks. Dean looked between the bed and Sam before he finally shook his head just a fraction. There were wheels turning in his brother’s mind, the endless struggle about whether or not to tell Sam about what was really bothering him. “How…” he tried for the words. “How are you…here?” His voice was deep and raspy from disuse.</p>
<p>Sam tilted his head, not really understanding, again, what Dean was getting at. “Cas and I heard about the crash on the news, we drove over, he’s back at the motel, he dropped me off,” Sam explained patiently, because yes, he had been told time and time again that Dean could forget simple things like that as he was healing.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head about as much as he could.</p>
<p>“Not that?” Sam asked and ran a hand down his face, and blinked a few times before he nodded. “Okay, can you do…one more sentence? I just need to know what blanks to fill in here,” he said, as gently as he could.</p>
<p>Dean pursed his lips ever so slightly, but his gaze didn’t waver from Sam’s. “Hell.” It was just one simple word, but again, Sam was lost on its many literal and figurative meanings.</p>
<p>“It’s been hell on me? Hell on you? Hell here?” Sam asked, knowing he was asking too many things at once, but he was also just struggling so very hard to understand what his brother needed to.</p>
<p>“No. Hell. You,” Dean said, a bit disjointed, and it wasn’t because of the injury, it was because there were tears shining in his eyes. “You’re in hell.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm super excited to have finally gotten to this chapter, so much is happening! If anyone has any thoughts on what the ending might mean for the future, I'd love to hear them, and thanks to everyone that's commented on the last few chapters, it means the world to me :) I will do my best to get a chapter ready for Sunday, but I don't have one done yet so it may end up being Thursday, just as a heads up. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Sunday! Wanted to get this out so I didn't leave you guys on a cliffhanger for too long ;) I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The only sound left in the room besides Dean’s slight fiddling with the blanket and the beeping monitors was Sam’s own breathing. Him, in hell? What was Dean talking about? That was years ago, they’d been over this…Sam looked up at him, forehead creased with confusion, and was met with a similar look from his brother.</p>
<p>They were both so terribly confused and lost, unable to convey what they needed to in order to make the other party simply understand. It was terrifying territory.</p>
<p>“Rock of Ages,” Dean said quietly. It was so quiet Sam almost couldn’t make it out, and whether that was from the memory or the pain of putting words together, he didn’t know. Maybe it was both. “Lucifer. Lisa. Ben.” They were all just disjointed words, but when Dean raised his eyes to look back at Sam, there was nothing but heartbreak in them. Heartbreak and loss and sadness and pain, to a degree he hadn’t seen in his brother’s gaze in so long.</p>
<p>Sam had never wanted to see hurt like that again in Dean’s eyes. But he still wasn’t quite grasping what Dean was getting at.</p>
<p>“You…” Dean trailed off again, a corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a pained smirk, his brother’s go to facade for hiding whatever he was actually feeling, “either…not…you, or this…isn’t real.”</p>
<p>So either Sam wasn’t Sam or the reality they were living wasn’t real. So Dean was stuck in some sort of…Sam didn’t even know.</p>
<p>He hadn’t, however, brought up the fact that Sam was supposed to be possessed by Lucifer. So something in Sam’s demeanor, or the fact that he had been by his brother’s bedside for the past few weeks, or just the look on his face had assured Dean that he was talking to Sam and not an evil archangel. But still, he wasn’t quite sure how he could be talking to Sam, and Sam could read it all over his face.</p>
<p>“You’re in a hole…in the ground…” the crappy attempt at a smirk faded from his face. His eyebrows pinched together ever so slightly and Sam saw it: the man who blamed himself, at least partially, for what had happened so many years ago.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head ever so slightly, wondering how he could even start to try and rectify this. “I’m here, Dean, I promise you, it’s all me,” he tried, but he didn’t exactly have a silver knife to prove his statement. Though, he did have a flask of holy water he kept in his jacket at all times, especially with all of them so open to attacks for the past few weeks.</p>
<p>He slowly moved his hand into his pocket, with Dean watching his every move, and pulled out the flask. “See?” he sprinkled a few drops onto his hand and raised it so that Dean could properly see. “Not a demon. No silver knife here though, it’s a hospital, but I…I can get Cas to vouch, or…something,” he tried and put the holy water away.</p>
<p>But it didn’t seem to have helped. Dean was still eyeing him in the exact same way, and every glance Sam cast towards him hurt just a bit more. “There was a plane crash, Dean, do you remember that?”</p>
<p>He could see the gears turning in Dean’s brain before he finally shook his head the little amount that he was able.</p>
<p>Sam pushed a hand through his hair, and when that didn’t do enough, he pushed himself up from his chair, still shaking his head.</p>
<p>“So,” he started as quietly as he could, “I’m supposed to be in hell, you were with Lisa and Ben, but something’s totally off about this whole scenario?”</p>
<p>There was a single blink from Dean as he eyes Sam as cautiously as he had been before, but with more pain in his gaze.</p>
<p>“You don’t remember anything else?”</p>
<p>And then there were the two blinks that followed that Sam had been absolutely dreading. He was sure his face must have fallen a great deal because Dean opened his mouth, either to explain or to say another word or to do something, but Sam was still shaking his head. Dean had forgotten the past what, seven years? No, no, no, that couldn’t be possible, not by a long shot.</p>
<p>“Okay, I just, I need,” he muttered quickly to himself, trying to figure out what in the hell he was supposed to do. Sam cast another look to Dean, and, pursing his lips, pulled the phone from his pocket and made his way out of the room.</p>
<p>The handle rattled slightly with his shaking hand as he opened it and stepped outside, nearly running into Marian on the way.</p>
<p>“Sam! Scared me there, sorry,” she said and shook her head, but took one look at him and her slight smile faded away. “What’s wrong? We didn’t get a call at the station, everything alright?”</p>
<p>No, everything was not alright. Something was terribly wrong, and Sam couldn’t (didn’t want) to put it into words. “He, uh, he’s awake,” he said quietly, “he…he’s remembering things that happened…seven years ago that we put behind us.” Sam shifted the phone in his grasp and shook his head again, trying to get rid of the voices in his mind reminding him what the worst case scenario was.</p>
<p>Marian’s soft touch on his shoulder brought him back down to earth and he looked at her through slightly wet eyes. “I’ll ask him a few questions, we’ll do a few tests, we’ll get this sorted out, Sam, he’ll be fine,” she assured gently. Marian then looked over a few more things on her seemingly magic clipboard, and after a moment of waiting, she shook her head. “I’ll see when we can get him in for things, but it may not be immediate.”</p>
<p>“So you’re saying…?” Sam trailed off, hoping that it meant no ill-effects for Dean.</p>
<p>“Just that it may be better if you went back to where you and your brother are staying for the rest of the day. Come in tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll have something to update you on then. We also don’t want to overwhelm him, especially if there is brain damage, which there may be with what you’re describing.” She said it very calmly, which helped, but only to a certain degree.</p>
<p>Sam would have brought himself to nod, but he wasn’t sure about it anymore. Instead, he quirked a small smile to show he appreciated it, and Marian took her clipboard into the room with her and half closed the door behind her. Sam leaned back against the wall for a moment before he took a breath and pulled the phone out of his shaking hands. He dialed Cas’ number and went to find the quickest way outside.</p>
<p>Cas picked up on the third ring, and was obviously distressed by the call. “Sam? Is everything alright? Is Dean okay?” he asked in quick succession.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s…awake, he’s…I don’t know, Cas,” Sam said quietly, and leaned back again on the closest wall he found next to the hospital wing’s doors. “He…he thinks I’m still in hell. He mentioned Lisa and Ben and Rock of Ages and…I don’t know.” He kept repeating those three little words until Cas spoke up again.</p>
<p>“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Sam, is a nurse in with him right now?” Sam could hear some slight rustling on the other end of the line.</p>
<p>“Marian, she’s asking questions, running some tests, all of that.”</p>
<p>“Good, that’s…good. I’m sure it’s just aftereffects of the crash and the drugs, he should be back to normal fairly soon I’d imagine.” Cas was doing his best to be reassuring, Sam could tell, but the slight bit of doubt in the usually immovable angel’s voice told him otherwise. Upon not hearing a confirmation on the other end of the line, he asked a quiet, “Sam?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, back to normal,” Sam repeated quietly. Around his secluded phone call, nurses rushed to and from various other locations. Soft beeps of other monitors echoed down the halls along with the footsteps on tiled floors. There were voices, all hushed and muffled in tone, but still there, still surrounding everything, and there were so many sounds everywhere. “Any chance you could just pull around and I could meet you? She said it may be better to come back tomorrow, they should have more information by then.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Sam. I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Cas,” Sam repeated, as he had done tens of times over the past span of days. He couldn’t say thanks enough, not really. There was another beat of silence before the line disconnected and Sam was left in the bustling hallway clutching a quiet phone.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Sam met Cas, he was in a parking spot, the Impala humming as it sat there. The legos that Dean had stuck in the vent so long ago still slightly rattled as the heat fought to keep the cold off the metal beast. Would Dean forget about that too?</p>
<p>“Sam? How is he?” Cas asked once the hunter was inside and the door had closed, as if they hadn’t already established how Dean was.</p>
<p>Sam sighed and leaned a bit more back against the seats. The seats, which, under a month ago, had been coated with his blood. If Dean didn’t remember the crash, then he wouldn’t be remembering that either.</p>
<p>“Cas…what if he forgot everything that happened after I went into the pit?”</p>
<p>The question was posed as quietly as Sam could manage, and his eyes were affixed to a certain spot on the Impala’s dashboard for no apparent reason.</p>
<p>“Me, being alive, first off. The soulless stuff, Purgatory, the Mark, the Darkness…” Sam trailed off and shook his head, those being only a few of the major events that had come down on the brothers since that infamous “last day” in Stull Cemetery. Not even to mention the people they had lost. Bobby, gosh, how would Dean take that? He had barely handled it the first time, when he knew the context around what happened. Sam couldn’t just drop it on him that yeah, another person they knew and loved was dead, and he didn’t remember. Kevin, Charlie, people he didn’t even know <em>existed </em>yet. Benny, Chuck, everything with Lucifer, the Trials, the angels falling…</p>
<p>Dean convincing him in an old church in the middle of the night to not take his own life to lock away the demons forever. His laughs echoing through the halls during a meeting with Charlie. Dean fixing up a gash on Sam’s hand. Dean bringing him back down to earth time and time again with that very same injury. Him beating the Mark and being reminded that yes, Dean Winchester is a good person and a good brother. Hell, even Sully.</p>
<p>Would Dean lose all that? He couldn’t lose all that. Dean was his stone number one, he had said so himself. And yeah, they wouldn’t be starting over, but to build up from all of that. How would they…</p>
<p>“Sam, you need to calm down.”</p>
<p>Cas’ voice was soft, not alarming, but the look in his eyes when Sam finally raised his own betrayed that notion. The angel had placed a gentle hand on the younger brother’s shoulder, trying to be comforting. In reality, he looked just as lost and confused as Sam probably did if he were to look in the mirror.</p>
<p>“How—“ Sam started, unsure about how to even finish that question. “How are we gonna fix this, Cas? If it ends up being…amnesia,” even the word hurt to say, “or something, it doesn’t just get magically fixed. Sometimes the memories never come back, even with therapy and reminding and a whole slew of other things.”</p>
<p>Cas eventually dropped his hand and shook his head in the slightest. “I’m not sure,” he admitted in a voice that was only a bit louder than Sam’s own. “But we will. Everything you two have faced, everything that we have faced, we have managed to make it right. I’m not sure where to begin, but we will begin, and we will end it, the same as always.” Amid the look of confusion on Cas’ face, there was a bit of determination that Sam was used to seeing. Even with him trying not to doubt and failing, Cas was trying for the both of them.</p>
<p>“What if it never gets better? How do we fill seven years of lost time?” Sam scrunched his eyebrows together.</p>
<p>“As Dean says,” Cas began and threw the Impala into reverse before he carefully backed out and started maneuvering away from the hospital, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ll wait for tomorrow and go from there.”</p>
<p>“And the day after that and so on,” Sam nodded ever so slightly. In the back of his mind, he wondered exactly how long the ‘so on’ would end up being. He prayed to a God that wasn’t listening that for all of their sakes, they could catch half a break this time around. Ghosts, demons, Cain, the Darkness, they could all be beaten one way or another.</p>
<p>How could Sam even begin to go about beating the invisible demon that may be lurking around in his brother’s head?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive back to the motel was spent in relative silence, save for the heaters and the rattling that came along with them. Sam and Cas spent the rest of the afternoon with laptops open, researching everything they could about amnesia, brain injures, and recovery (as if they hadn’t already scoured every single website in their few weeks there). Eventually, Sam announced that he needed to get out of the motel room for a little while and was grabbing something to eat.</p>
<p>“Are you sure? Dean specifically said to be careful about you driving, that it shouldn’t be happening in the first place,” the angel argued from his spot by the table.</p>
<p>Sam just shook his head and motioned for the keys. “It’s been almost a month, Cas, I’m good, promise. Just need to get out for a little while is all.”</p>
<p>He could see the angel thinking it over in his head, as if weighing the pros and cons of the options set before him on the table. “You’re sure?” he checked again, regarding the hunter with slightly squinted eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m sure,” Sam repeated. “Haven’t been doing much anyways to hinder the healing process, and I’ve driven further with much worse.” He’d driven half dead to the clinic with a bullet wound in his gut, but he wasn’t exactly keen on recounting that story given their current situation.</p>
<p>Cas eventually sighed and passed over the keys. “Just…be careful, call if you need anything.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded again, happy to have the familiar keys back in his hand, and pulled his jacket from the back of the chair, one hand also holding his laptop. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he added before he left the room, closing the door behind him.</p>
<p>Sam had been in the Impala numerous times since everything that had happened, but he still sat in the driver’s seat, as if catching his breath for a moment. It was still odd to be driving the car, especially under the current circumstances. His chest still pulled a bit when he turned around to check for traffic before he backed out of the spot, but it was more uncomfortable than painful. It was a reminder that he had almost been dead a month ago, and now the tables were turned against Dean.</p>
<p>It wasn’t snowing, which was nice, and when it did snow it wasn’t a lot. Depending on how long Dean’s recovery took, they could get into some pretty heavy snow later in the month. So Sam was keeping his fingers crossed for multiple reasons that Dean would get better soon. Still, it was cold enough outside that Sam pulled his jacket around him a bit tighter as he made his way out of the now parked car, laptop in hand.</p>
<p>The warm cafe he stepped into was a nice change from the outside, and he smiled politely at the waitress before picking a seat that was out of the way as she grabbed a menu. It was during the off hours for people to be eating, so the place was relatively quiet. The waitress poured coffee with a smile before he could refuse, simply stating, “you look like you could need it,” in the gentlest way she could.</p>
<p>Sam thanked her, ordered a sandwich, and opened up his laptop as soon as it had been placed. And then…he stared at the screen. He had lost count of how many tabs and windows he had open and how many bookmarks he still had to file into their correct folders. The words seemed to mock him in different sizes, shapes, and ways of saying ‘you can’t save your brother. You’re help is useless to him.’</p>
<p>He cocked his head a bit, as if the words themselves could take it as a threat to shut up, and opened up a word document. The blank page, while daunting, was much better than a cluttered website filled with repetitive information from four other sources.</p>
<p>A word document, now that he could work with. He already had notes about pretty much everything saved in other various documents that resided on his desktop. No, notes he was tired of. He needed to do something else, he needed to find something to help Dean if what they were dealing with really turned out to be amnesia.</p>
<p>Sam wrote down three little words: <em>May 13, 2010.</em></p>
<p>Every anniversary of that day in the years since then, he and Dean had stepped lightly around each other. There was more bantering and less bickering, and if they weren’t on a hunt (and sometimes even if they were), they didn’t let each other out of their sights. Because Sam had gone to hell on that day, and Dean had thought he’d never see him again.</p>
<p>There wasn’t an explanation needed for that day, Dean remembered it fine from what Sam could tell, and by the time he was done staring at the date, his sandwich had appeared next to him and his coffee had been refilled. He smiled a bit to himself, and took a break to eat before he went back to his list.</p>
<p>He added the date when he got his soul back, and filled in as many specifics as he could, though he glossed over some of what he had done while soulless. He remembered it perfectly, there was no reason why he had to remind Dean of it too when he could just remember it on his own someday.</p>
<p>The dates began to pile up, some much more specific than others, and after an hour passed, he texted Cas to let him know he’d be a bit later, that he was fine, and that he was just working. Every so often, he’d delete a date and shake his head, or spend too long staring at the words on the screen.</p>
<p>
  <em>September 2011: I cut my hand and you turned it into a reminder that you’re my stone number one that I can build on.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>May 2013: You convinced me to not board up hell at the expense of my own life. You got me stuck with an angel without my permission, but you meant well.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> December 2013: We lost Kevin.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> January 2014: You got saddled with the Mark.</em>
</p>
<p>There was no further explanation for that needed. If Dean wanted it, he could ask Sam directly, but he didn’t need to put it in writing…he couldn’t put it in writing, not everything they’d both done over the course of that year. He’d never get the words on the page. That was, if Dean ever saw the page to begin with. Why exactly Sam was writing it, he wasn’t quite sure, he just…needed to remind himself, and his brother if it came down to that.</p>
<p>
  <em>May 2015: I spread some pictures on the floor, got punched, and eventually you killed Death. You made him Mexican food as a peace offering beforehand.</em>
</p>
<p>Sam smiled a bit as he wrote it, just a bit. Speaking of peace offerings with Death was much easier than saying Dean almost caused Sam’s that very same day.</p>
<p>
  <em>May 2016: You found the amulet I rescued from the trash years ago. We also found God, which turned out to be…surprising.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> October 2017: You saved the world, like you always do. I thought it meant you were gone. But you weren’t dead, and you found me, again, like you always do.</em>
</p>
<p>The list went on and on like that, with dates peppered in-between other ones, and estimations in place when he didn’t remember the exact date.</p>
<p>As the sun began to set, he thanked the kind waitress and left the cafe, closed laptop in hand. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with the list, not yet at least. But he had an outline of sorts of what had happened since Dean lost his memory, which should help with any questions Dean brought up. Lisa and Ben were of course on the list, and Sam knew more than anything else that the topic would be coming up sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>When he made it back to the motel room, Cas greeted him as usual and they went on pretending like everything was at least half normal and their worlds weren’t crashing down around them. Sam went to bed earlier that night, knowing he was likely to not sleep much, given what the next day was likely to hold.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>December 4, 11:37am</em>
</p>
<p>“We went ahead with a few more scans and some verbalized testing for dates and information you provided us with, along with other well-known world events,” Dr. Monroe said.</p>
<p>Sam and Cas had sat down in his office about ten minutes ago and the door had closed behind them. Dr. Monroe was a well spoken man in his mid fifties that wore glasses, but only when reading, Sam had noted. They had been going over what sorts of tests Dean had been administered before they got to the results.</p>
<p>“From all of that, combined with the brain scans and the damage to the hippocampus, we can conclude that your brother is suffering from a form of retrograde amnesia.” He didn’t give it a moment to set in before he asked, “has he suffered many concussions in the past?”</p>
<p>Sam nodded numbly, his brain still trying to process his worst fear in the ordeal. “Yeah, we, uh, we work odd jobs all over the country, some of them aren’t so safe,” he said vaguely.</p>
<p>Dr. Monroe nodded, expecting as much. “That could have been a contributing factor, when coupled with the head trauma from the crash and the coma he was in. From what we can tell, he remembers nothing of the past seven or so years, including the crash that caused this injury.”</p>
<p>The room following that statement was utterly silent.</p>
<p>“Is there any hope that he can eventually regain these memories?” Cas asked a moment later, breaking the silence. His gaze, however, was on Sam, who had taken an intense interest in the scar on his palm.</p>
<p>Dr. Monroe sighed and leaned forward against his desk, arms on top of it. “Some of them, maybe. As of right now, there are no proven methods to completely cure amnesia. Trigger words, repeating what happened, those are more effective in the movies,” he shook his head. “Realistically, some may come back in bits and pieces. Something from three years ago could come back first, or something from two months ago. The brain…it is very unpredictable. But it is highly unlikely that he will remember everything in the detail that he was once able to, I am sorry.”</p>
<p>Sam was hearing him, but he wasn’t <em>hearing </em>him. Dean was his memory keeper, as much as Sam was his. Everything they had been through…</p>
<p>“What can we do to possibly help?” he asked in a voice much too small for his stature, and raised his eyes to the doctor.</p>
<p>“Don’t overwhelm him,” Monroe put it simply. “He needs time to heal and accept what has happened most of all. Dumping everything on him and begging him to remember will not help the situation, though I understand that it can be hard to not do so. If you care about his wellbeing—“</p>
<p>“—which we do,” Cas cut him off shortly.</p>
<p>“Let him take it at his own pace,” he finished. “Some reminders never hurt every once and a while, to try and bring something up. Maybe he’ll see something and an image will pop into his head that you can then describe. It’s very different for every patient.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded again. For all the research he had been doing on his own, and Cas too, it sounded like what they had been reading. No true cure all, just hopes that fragments would eventually come back. And in their lives, fragments without backstory could be hard to swallow.</p>
<p>“And…physically, how is he?” Sam asked eventually, to which Cas nodded, as he had too been thinking about the question.</p>
<p>“Physically, he is getting better,” Dr. Monroe answered with a bit of a smile. “His physical therapy is progressing well, his muscle use and coordination is good. He’s very stubborn to get back on his feet it seems.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s as stubborn as they come,” Sam let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.</p>
<p>“Stubbornness is good when healing, but in small doses. Not pushing too hard goes for himself as well,” the doctor reminded. “But physically, he is almost back to normal. He has the head trauma and some lingering fatigue, but that is normal for someone of his circumstance.”</p>
<p>“Can we be expected to be able to take him home any time soon?” Cas asked, leaning forward a little in his own chair. It had been almost a month, and they were getting more eager to get back to the bunker, which Dean didn’t even know existed, and sort this out in privacy where they could help in their own ways.</p>
<p>Sam watched as Monroe checked a few things in Dean’s file and scrunched his eyes together. “Again, no rushing, but…we’ll see how the next week progresses. If he continues to improve like this, we can have him transferred to a location closer to your home.”</p>
<p>A week? They could be headed home in a week? That immediately brought a smile to Sam’s face. “We can drive him back and get set up and everything, just let us know when,” he nodded again.</p>
<p>“We will be sure to keep you in the loop. Until then,” Monroe stood up and extended his hand to both men, and they exchanged handshakes, “don’t be pushing yourselves too hard either.”</p>
<p>“We won’t,” Sam assured.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Dr. Monroe,” Cas added, a smile on his face as well. With that, the doctor nodded and sat back down, leaving Sam and Cas to head out of the room and back to Dean’s.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dean had been sitting in a chair looking out the window for…he wasn’t sure how long, exactly. Time was hard with the clouds in the sky, his aching head, and the drugs still going through his system. But he had convinced the nurses to let him walk around his room in his off time from physical therapy and sit in a real chair today, so that was his win. It was small, but it made him feel more normal and he could watch the snow flurry outside of his own accord.</p>
<p>New York…just like that. He had woken up in a hospital bed in New York with an old Sam and old Cas looking at him, who, after looking in a mirror, was obviously older too. He wasn’t with Lisa and Ben, and they weren’t here, and he hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask why they weren’t.</p>
<p>It probably had something to do with the fact that he was missing seven freaking years of his life. Seven. Years. In hunter years, that was like twenty. How many world almost-ending events had he missed? He was guessing Lisa and Ben were part of it somehow, and he had just…lost it all.</p>
<p>Any time he tried to force his brain to go back to remember something new, he couldn’t. It just hurt, like a hot spike, a warning to turn back. Or sometimes, there was just nothing, like someone had replaced the images in his head with a literal blank slate. Cas hadn’t healed him yet either, which Dean didn’t doubt he would do, so something bad had happened there…right? Probably. Maybe. Dean actually had no idea. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle where 98 out of the 100 pieces were invisible and the two he had didn’t fit together.</p>
<p>He had more scars than before too, so that was…something. Not exactly unexpected, just…strange. Sure, he’d never be a clear skinned baby again, but waking up and getting undressed only to find even more scars on his body was definitely a wakeup call.</p>
<p>And then there was Sammy. Gosh, Sam, where did he even begin? The obvious scar on his hand that he had rubbed a few times with a faraway look in his eyes. His eyes, just, in general. They held a heaviness that Dean hadn’t seen even in the time he remembered with the apocalypse. Sam had seen some things, done some things, and Dean was left to wonder how many he caused, how many he was a part of, and how much he could have prevented.</p>
<p>His younger brother just looked older, all around, and not exactly in a bad way, it was just…strange. Sam was physically older than Dean felt, but Dean was still physically older than him. Dean was what, early thirties last he remembered, and suddenly he was approaching forty. What the hell?</p>
<p>He was sinking, and he couldn’t find a life raft. Which was funny because apparently his plane had gone down in the ocean. First off, his plane. Since when did he ride in planes? So again, something was off there.</p>
<p>There was just something off with literally everything, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Some of it, he doubted even Sam knew how to.</p>
<p>The sound of the door opening caused Dean to break away from his thoughts and shift his body towards the door. He smiled a bit as Sam and Cas came in, and they too smiled back. Wherever they’d been for the morning, hopefully it would at least yield good news.</p>
<p>“Snowing outside,” he commented, unsure of how else to break the ice that seemed to encase every one of their conversations. They were all walking on eggshells around each other, not wanting to break anything fragile should they say the wrong thing.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it gets pretty cold at night. And during the day too, sometimes, just depends,” Sam replied easily enough. Dean knew just by looking at his brother’s much older face that the light in his eyes was due to the happiness that Dean was awake, but the heaviness on his shoulders were the circumstances that meant Dean was awake.</p>
<p>Both he and Cas pulled up chairs around Dean, who shuffled his a bit so they could all sit comfortably and look at each other.</p>
<p>“How are you, Dean?” Cas asked, getting right down to what they all wanted to know. Hell, even Dean himself wanted to know.</p>
<p>He wanted to say that his head ached something awful even with the drugs, he couldn’t figure anything out, he didn’t remember anything, he was missing a huge part of their lives, and apparently it was now December and he was in New York after a plane crash. But…he didn’t say any of that. Sam and Cas already had enough on their plates for him to be adding more to it, and stuff they couldn’t do anything about.</p>
<p>Though he didn’t doubt Sam’s ability to see through the lie, Dean gave it a halfhearted attempt. “Aces,” he said with a slight shrug, still sticking to slightly smaller phrases as he got used to everything again. “Bit of a headache, but to be expected, right?”</p>
<p>“Right,” Sam nodded, with an obviously forced smile as he looked to Cas and then back to Dean. His hair fell in front of his face and he had to brush it back, which made Dean smirk. Seven freaking years and Sam still wasn’t cutting his hair.</p>
<p>“So…about ready to bust out of here?” Sam’s next question had Dean looking at him quizzically. “Dr. Monroe said you’re doing well, and if you keep it up in about a week we should be able to take you back home.”</p>
<p>Dean couldn’t hide the smile on his face, but it slowly faded at the mention of a home. Like Sam had said before, a bunker. So…the motel hopping, was that still a thing? In the time he didn’t remember, they had actually found a place to call home?</p>
<p>Sam must have immediately picked up on Dean’s quizzical look, for he went right into an explanation. “It’s in Lebanon, Kansas. It’s this old…let’s say supernatural war bunker. I can fill you in more later,” he tried.</p>
<p>“You have a memory foam mattress that you’re quite fond of,” Cas also chimed in, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips. Oh, so Dean must mention that a lot, that was noted.</p>
<p>“How long have we been there for?” Dean asked slowly, lips pursed after the fact.</p>
<p>Sam’s answer came just as slowly. “About three, four years.”</p>
<p>They had a home for three or four years, okay, that was going to take some processing…a lot of processing. “But it’s great. As soon as you get out of here, we’ll get you back in Baby and give you the grand tour, sound good?” Sam’s attempt at levity almost fell flat, but there was a saving grace.</p>
<p>Dean immediately perked up at the mention of his Baby. Last he remembered, really, anything, she had been sitting in Lisa’s garage. At least she hadn’t been there all that time, that was a relief. “You better be taking care of her,” Dean said, mildly threatening, knowing that Sam would get it.</p>
<p>Sam did get it, for he let out a low laugh and shook his head, obviously glad to hear his brother speak like that again.</p>
<p>“She is in good condition, Dean, you have nothing to worry about,” Cas affirmed for Sam.</p>
<p>After a moment, it occurred to Dean that the Impala was maybe in the best condition out of the four of them, but he didn’t voice that thought.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>December 10</em>
</p>
<p>In the morning almost a week later, true to Monroe’s hopes, Dean was able to sign himself out and be released from the hospital. They had, of course, sent him with some mandatory medications, pamphlets, and doctors to look at in the area around the bunker.</p>
<p>Dean was a bit slower than normal while walking out of the hospital, but he immediately sped up a bit when he saw the Impala sitting in the lot. Cas watched and Sam rolled his eyes as Dean got up to the car and greeted her. After seeing that she was indeed in good condition, Dean got into the passenger seat, Sam in the front, and Cas in the back.</p>
<p>With a final look back at the hospital and a slight weight lifted off their shoulders, Sam drove the Impala out of the lot and down the road, more than happy to finally have a permanent change of scenery.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Moving right along! This concludes the major hospital portion of the story (Dean isn't magically fixed though, don't worry, lots more h/c to come ;) and a bit of scar-related brother talk in the next chapter). I was super glad to get him back up on his feet and talking again, I really like writing Dean and his interactions with everyone else. He's missing quite a big chunk of time though...so we'll see how it goes. Thank you all for reading, I hope you're excited for what comes next! See you all next Thursday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the last five minutes of the drive, Sam could tell that Dean was itching to get out of the car. He kept looking out the window, a silent ‘are we there yet’ almost slipping past his lips too many times. Whether it was the motion of the car, the confines of the space, or everything else going on inside his head, Sam had no idea. He did, however, get an idea of how badly Dean needed air when the car stopped and he practically flung the door open and stood up. Dean did his best to not make a scene, and turned so that his forearms rested on the roof of the Impala, as if he hadn’t just made a beeline out of the metal interior of the car.</p>
<p>“You good?” Sam asked carefully as he extracted himself from the other side of the vehicle, Cas doing the same in the back.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, just motion and, you know, you got no better at driving her in the past seven years.” It was a decent attempt at a cover up, and it almost worked until Dean’s breath hitched for a split second at the mention of the time that had passed.</p>
<p>The three men stood around the car for a moment before Cas spoke up. “I should probably run to the diner, get some food for later,” he said, and gestured for the keys. Dean, of course, eyed the movement with a frown that even he couldn’t hide. Right, he had no idea Cas had practically been the sole driver of the car for the past month. “I could walk too, it’s only a mile. The…vessel could use some exercise,” Cas corrected when he saw Dean’s look, which afterwards resumed its state of general, overall spent-ness.</p>
<p>“Sounds good. You got a phone and cash?” Sam checked, just to be sure.</p>
<p>Cas nodded back, and Sam gave him a few things to order (Dean didn’t even ask for a burger, which was seriously saying something), and Cas went on his way.</p>
<p>“Head inside?” Sam suggested next and jerked his head towards their motel room door before he got their bags out of the trunk.</p>
<p>Dean looked between the door and Sam for a moment before he shook his head ever so slightly. “Think I may take a walk around the motel, be back in ten,” he said a bit slowly, as if he was still making up his mind.</p>
<p>“You’re…sure about this?” Sam asked, eyeing his brother carefully. He wasn’t exactly loving the idea of his semi-recently conscious brother going on a walk by himself…but it had to happen sometime, right? Give Dean some space to think away from the hospital and both himself and Cas. Sam eventually found himself shaking his head and handing Dean his phone. “Ten minutes,” he reminded.</p>
<p>Dean took the phone with a halfhearted smirk and nod, and then began walking down the rows of rooms towards the back of the motel. Sam watched him until he disappeared from view.</p>
<p>Physical therapy had obviously paid off, and they had some exercises to do while at the motel and on the road. Dean still moved just a bit slower, but that was only because Sam knew how he usually moved. There wasn’t a sense of purpose behind his steps, a quick means to get from point A to point B, so they were slower, more unsure than Sam was used to. His speech was better, which Sam was immensely happy about, but they still had to keep an eye on, well, everything.</p>
<p>He shook his head again and went to unlock their room, placing the duffel bags down as he did so. The bed closest to the door had remained untouched for weeks, and it took Sam a moment to realize that the empty mattress would soon have an occupant. It was strange, but a good strange.</p>
<p>Sam carded a hand through his hair; he really needed a shower, but he didn’t dare get in while Dean was off by himself and Cas was running an errand. It could wait until Dean was asleep or at least Cas was in the room. Dean would probably make fun of him for worrying, but Sam thought he had a reason to after all that time.</p>
<p>Instead, he got the bags set up and decided on swapping out his plaid shirt for a fresher one that didn’t smell like a hospital, which would be a major improvement. He was in the middle of buttoning it up, facing the door, when he heard it open and Dean stepped inside. He went to smile at his brother, but was met with an expression that bordered between horror and confusion.</p>
<p>“Sam?” was all Dean could ask as he carefully closed the door behind him, his eyes not leaving Sam’s half exposed chest…and the barely healed bullet scars that lingered on it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Halfway through his walk, Dean was pretty sure it had been a bad idea. It was good for clearing his head (as if it hadn’t already been cleared of seven years of memories, thanks universe) to a degree, but not much else. He hadn’t done a ton of walking for “long” distances recently, it was more strengthening and all that other helpful nonsense. He got around to the manager’s area of the motel and could see their room up ahead when he let out a sigh and a small wince where nobody could see.</p>
<p>It wasn’t even the walking and the hospital and all of that…his joints ached where they hadn’t before. Not a lot, he wasn’t an old man for cryin’ out loud, just little ticks here or there. If he rotated a knee wrong, there was a pinprick of pain right below it where he didn’t remember there being before. Little things like that, injuries that had never quite correctly healed in their line of work. Injuries that he had no recollection of receiving.</p>
<p>Maybe that was a good way to start the conversation: “So, over the last seven years, how badly have I been beaten up so I know where to take it easy and where to not get hit as much?” Yeah, that’d go over well. Or “hey, was this scar from a bar fight or a werewolf?” Again, he was absolutely positive it would be an easy conversation. Not.</p>
<p>He sighed again when he saw he had finally reached their room at a bit under ten minutes. Dean paused for a moment before he opened the door, allowing himself to be under Sam’s well meaning scrutiny once again. He opened his mouth to say something, but found Sam on the other side of the room, swapping shirts.</p>
<p>A well meaning joke about not changing in front of strangers was at the tip of his tongue, but it faded as soon as he saw the scars on his brother’s chest. Two round, somewhat pink circles stood out amongst everything else. Dean knew they were remnants of bullet wounds, and they certainly hadn’t been there before. Hell, they were still pink, they were relatively <em>new.</em></p>
<p>“Sam?” he asked, wracking his brain for anything about his little brother getting shot twice in the chest in recent memory, but just like everything else, there was nothing but a blank slate there. Could he have prevented it? Was he there? What the hell had happened? Sam was sitting in a hospital waiting for Dean to wake up after he had been shot?</p>
<p>“Those aren’t…what I think they are, are they?” he asked ever so slowly, praying that maybe it was a trick of the light, or Sam had something removed or hell, burned himself making bacon…whatever. Anything but the fact that he had been shot. Twice. In the chest. Which couldn’t have been easy to get through. Hell, by the placement, Sam was probably lucky he survived.</p>
<p>Sam looked down at his chest and sighed before he finished buttoning up his shirt. “I’m fine, Dean,” he deflected easily. “They’re healed, good as new, nothing to worry about.”</p>
<p>“Nothing to worry about?” Dean asked, and took a few more steps into the room before he sat down on the corner of the unmade bed closer to the door. It was easier than standing, and Sam immediately followed, sitting down across from him so Dean wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look up. “How long ago?”</p>
<p>“Dean-“</p>
<p>“How long?” he cut out again.</p>
<p>Sam looked to the floor for a moment before he raised his gaze back to Dean. “About a month.”</p>
<p>“Jeez,” Dean whispered before he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “You got shot…twice…in the chest a month ago? The hell? I don’t-I can’t-“ Dean cut himself off.</p>
<p>“Hey, I know. You don’t remember, and it’s fine, not exactly a great few days,” Sam tried for a smirk, but it fell flat.</p>
<p>Dean was about to ask what happened, had his mouth open and everything, but the question wouldn’t come. It would be like asking Sam to relive it all over again, and he couldn’t do that to him. But Sam started talking before Dean could stop him.</p>
<p>“Werewolf case up in the woods. They had guns, I got shot, you got me out, I was fine, end of story,” Sam said simply. Well, obviously, it was the very beginning of a very, very long, twisted story.</p>
<p>“That’s it? Just…” Dean pursed his lips. In his incredibly screwed up timeline, Sam was just back from hell. His little brother was supposed to be <em>gone. </em>Had been gone, in fact, for a bit of time, but how much Dean didn’t quite know. He was still getting used to the fact that Sam had been by his side, watching him get better. And now he found out Sam had been shot and probably nearly died? Again?</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Sam shook his head back. “Dangers of the job, Dean. I’m fine, we need to focus on getting you better.”</p>
<p>Dean let out a low laugh at that and the motel room lapsed into silence. “What about the hand?” His question was quiet and unsure if it should even be uttered, but it was, and Sam looked to him in surprise. “You’ve rubbed it a few times, unconsciously. Don’t do that without a story.”</p>
<p>A story that Dean should probably have, one that he <em>needed </em>to have, but didn’t. Sam looked down at his palm and thumbed over the scar that was barely even visible anymore, as if he had forgotten that it still existed at all. “Piece of glass five years ago.” The explanation started off simple, but the specific time let Dean know that it was anything but simple. “It, uh…I don’t know. Unconscious tick I didn’t realize I still had, I guess. Just helped me remember a few things over the years.”</p>
<p>Yeah, as if that helped Dean at all. “Look…I get the whole…dancing around painful stuff, I got the same doctor lecture you did, but Sammy, I need to know some of what happened. I got a giant blank, man, I can’t fill it. It’s certainly more than a—a gimp hand if you’re doing that with it,” he said. Dean didn’t mean for it to come out so accusatory, but it did, it just slipped out. He didn’t know what he was trying to fill in, and it was hard on them all, obviously, but he needed something to go off of.</p>
<p>Sam sighed again, as if weighing his options. “I was in a bad place,” he said eventually, “and you took this,” he raised his hand a little, “and used it to anchor me. You’re my stone number one to build on, Dean, and I guess now…I gotta be yours.”</p>
<p>Dean hummed a bit and tried to quirk a smile. “Role reversal, huh?”</p>
<p>Sam looked at him, confusion written over his features. “What do you mean? It’s always been like that, Dean, we’ve got each other’s backs no matter what, we look out for each other, we’re family.”</p>
<p>“And family just lets their brothers get ridden into hell with the Devil?”</p>
<p>Dean looked back to his brother, who was older and had long hair and had new scars Dean didn’t remember him getting and didn’t have Lucifer riding shotgun and wasn’t in the Cage with him. But underneath all that, Dean could still see his younger brother, who, only a few months ago (it seemed) had said that it was okay and maintained eye contact with right up until he got dragged into the pit. And Dean had just watched. Sam was gone, like that, and now he wasn’t. Things had apparently been fine for a while, but Dean didn’t remember them making it fine.</p>
<p>“Last I remember, Sam, you’re in a pit with archangels and now you’re here with still healing bullet wounds trying to take care of me,” Dean shook his head again. “I can’t…I don’t know what to make of it, man, any of it,” he admitted and looked back to Sam, who was nodding, although his mind was very obviously in a different place at the moment.</p>
<p>“You didn’t <em>let</em> me get ridden into hell,” Sam countered eventually, voice wavering as he did so. Had they had this conversation years ago when Sam finally made his return? “You fought tooth and nail, and at the end of the day, it was the only option, you know that. But now I’m here and I’m fine, but you’re not, and you need to let me take care of you for a change. You just spent days by my hospital bed, Dean, and you don’t remember it, and you’ve been taking care of me. All this…Lucifer stuff…it isn’t your fault, it never was.”</p>
<p>Dean let the words sit for a moment. He started all of it, it was his fault for breaking the first seal in the first place, and he was about to say so to Sam, but when he looked back up, all he saw was utter forgiveness and longing in Sam’s eyes, as if he was begging his brother to understand. Sam needed Dean to understand that Lucifer, everything with that was fine now, and it had been for a little while. But Sam also understood that Dean didn’t recall any of that, and he’d be with him any step of the way.</p>
<p>“Whatever…rebuttals you have for that fact, Dean, lay them down, I told you it wasn’t your fault and defended it before, and I’ll do it again,” Sam added onto his previous statement.</p>
<p>They sat in silence for a few moments, but the unspoken words on their lips and gears grinding in both their heads said enough for each of them. Eventually, Dean nodded ever so slightly. It didn’t help the guilt he felt over everything, and he still needed to ask about Lisa and Ben and what had happened with Cas. “Must be some pretty bad deja vu, huh, Sammy?” Dean asked with a faint smirk, raising his eyes to his brother. He was more tired after their little conversation, probably because it wasn’t quite so little and he’d done a lot in his day out of the hospital. A lot was, of course, relative, and he hated it.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah. But whatever you need, Dean, I’m here for you,” Sam reminded sincerely. “Just maybe…memories in moderation.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded again. “Don’t want to fry what’s already been scrambled,” he commented and vaguely pointed at his head.</p>
<p>“Not funny,” Sam quipped back with a bit of a ‘really?’ look on his face that made Dean smile. He simply shrugged a little and shifted his position on the bed, as their conversation was over—for now—and rested up against the pillows and the headboard. Dean reached for the remote and turned the volume down low. He stayed away from news stations for now until he could get caught up at his own pace, and the few shows he sometimes tuned into as a guilty pleasure were already seasons from where he last remembered.</p>
<p>He eventually settled on some random old western rerun, only to notice that Sam had disappeared from the room. He came back a moment later with a bottle of water and a few pills for Dean to take.</p>
<p>“Meds,” he passed them off to his brother, who took the pills without question and set the water on the table in-between their beds. “Cas says he’ll be back in thirty,” Sam reported and took up his spot on the other bed, though he was fairly close to the edge of the space that separated the two mattresses. “Western?” he asked, looking at the screen.</p>
<p>Dean ‘mhm’d in affirmation and affixed his eyes to the screen. Ten minutes later, one of the gunfights was over and he decided to close his eyes until the talking was done.</p>
<p>Eventually, he vaguely heard voices around him and thought the room got darker, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes again. Sometime later a blanket was placed over him and even in his mostly asleep haze, he could feel both Sam and Cas’ gazes on him from around the room, which he would have remarked on being borderline creepy…if his weariness didn’t run so bone-deep and if the gazes weren’t so comforting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So how was that? It's a definite relief to have Dean walking and talking again, hopefully you guys enjoyed reading it! Next chapter will be up Sunday! We get them back to the bunker and some other...interesting, let's go with interesting, things start cropping up ;) Thanks for reading, and extra thanks to those of you that have let me know your thoughts on the story, you guys make my world go 'round :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 12</em>
</p>
<p>“The hell?” Dean asked the second Sam started pulling around a dirt road to something that looked like an old power factory. They had left the motel early the morning before, with Sam and Cas taking turns driving as Dean mainly slept in the passenger’s seat. They had stopped a bit later than they had initially intended to at a motel, but it was worth it because in the late afternoon the day after, they had made it to the bunker.</p>
<p>“Just give it a minute,” Sam replied, trying to ease Dean’s worry. Even in the fading light, Dean could see the small smirk on his brother’s face, a gesture that he had missed seeing in their current situation. Dean did, in fact, give it a minute, and when they pulled into some hidden spy garage under the factory, he was impressed.</p>
<p>He was more impressed, however, with the multitude of fancy old cars and bikes that were also inside the garage.</p>
<p>“Woah,” he whispered as Sam stopped the car and the three of them got out. “So…a bunch of librarians collected cool cars?”</p>
<p>“Apparently, though they do take offense to that term,” Cas brought up, though he was smiling as well.</p>
<p>Dean took a look around. Beyond the cars and machines, the layout and architecture was definitely a bit older, but it was fancy nonetheless. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together a bit. “Grand tour time.”</p>
<p>It was the only way he could think to bring levity to such a situation. After all, how could he not remember a place like this? Even after following Sam and Cas down a few hallways, he was practically begging for anything to come to the surface. Literally anything. But the cars and the old lights and the cold cement beneath his feet did nothing for the years lost inside his head.</p>
<p>He tried to not let his disappointment show, as Sam and Cas were apparently pretty good at doing.</p>
<p>The hallway eventually ended and Sam and Cas let Dean go a few steps ahead up into a giant room. A metal staircase snaked up one side with a bunch of old radio stuff on the walls. A lit up map table sat in the center of the room with a few chairs around it. Dean let out a low whistle as he surveyed the area.</p>
<p>“We live here?” he asked, just to be certain. The library up ahead was also crazy big, but they could get to that later.</p>
<p>“Yep,” Sam nodded, half a smile on his face. It fell a bit as Dean kept looking around, as if all of them were holding their breath waiting for something to surface. Unlike a few of the blinking lights on some of the computer panels, nothing lit up in his head.</p>
<p>Dean went over to the map table and toyed with a few of the circular objects on top of it. Things felt…familiar in a strange sense. Like he was going through some deja vu without remembering what would have caused it in the first place. It was unsettling.</p>
<p>“There is a kitchen just down the hall,” Cas pointed to the area on the other side of the map room. “Sam has mentioned that you can be fond of cooking sometimes.”</p>
<p>“We have a real kitchen now?” Dean asked, already beginning to cross the room, but he stopped when he heard a bit of a laugh.</p>
<p>Behind him, Sam was smiling and shaking his head a little. When Dean looked at him quizzically, he simply held up a hand and waved it. “Just deja vu. You, uh, you said that before.”</p>
<p>Right, so the deja vu was hitting them all pretty hard then, good to know. Dean nodded in response, not quite sure what words would make up for what his brain couldn’t remember. He followed the snaking hallways until he reached the kitchen, which was in fact a real kitchen, much to his delight.</p>
<p>“Am I a decent cook?” he asked, turning towards Sam and Cas as they stood in the doorway. Of course, he knew how to handle a few things, namely burgers and anything that had to be put on a grill. He was in charge of the grill during the barbecues with Lisa and Ben and the rest of the neighborhood…</p>
<p>And there it was. He cut off that thought before it could get any further. Lisa and Ben weren’t with him, and Sam and Cas hadn’t mentioned them, which meant that something had happened that they’d rather keep under wraps until it was absolutely necessary.</p>
<p>Dean could only take so much loss at one time, and right now his memories were taking up about a hundred and twenty percent of his ‘loss’ capacity. He couldn’t add Lisa and Ben to that percentage…not yet.</p>
<p>He must have been staring at the soup ladle in front of him a little too long, because Sam eventually cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention before he replied. “Pretty decent,” he tried to be nonchalant about it, “but you need to learn how to do laundry.”</p>
<p>“Re-learn?” Dean asked, trying to correct his brother.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head and smirked again. “No, just learn. Dude, you iron shirts with beer, we can’t have that anymore.”</p>
<p>Dean made a bit of a face and shrugged his shoulders in indifference. Water, beer, same difference, right? They probably worked about the same.</p>
<p>“So, we’ve got kitchen, headquarters, library, what else?” he asked half hoping there was some area that would just scream out memories at him.</p>
<p>“There is a filing room,” Cas brought up.</p>
<p>Dean rolled his eyes in response. “Seriously, Cas? Filing? Sorry, but we’re talking cool stuff here.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head and stepped back out into the hallway before he motioned for Dean to follow. “No, no, this one’s good.”</p>
<p>Dean muttered a ‘whatever’ under his breath and followed Cas down another set of hallways. Cas and Sam were both still walking with measured steps so that Dean could keep up at his current slower pace without getting winded. Nobody said anything about it, it was just something they did, and Dean was grateful for it. Unspoken awareness and communication. At least some things hadn’t changed.</p>
<p>He would definitely need to explore more to get all the hallways and rooms down. Some were labelled with numbers, others with letters, there didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason behind that. Cas eventually stopped and opened the door to one, revealing a filing room, just like he had said. Cas flicked on the lights and let Dean enter.</p>
<p>There were stacks of paper and boxes around, but there wasn’t much else there…until Dean looked at the floor. He looked back to Sam and Cas, who motioned for him to go explore, and he went up to the end of the room where there were semi-circle scratches on the floor. A hidden secret room? That should bring back some stuff for sure. He pulled open the cabinet that would attach to the scratches and grinned as it came forward and folded out to reveal a giant devil’s trap and chains on the walls.</p>
<p>“I believe it isn’t quite so boring now?” Cas asked, and Dean could practically see the smile on his face.</p>
<p>“Oh, definitely not,” Dean replied, and took a few steps in. But that was about as far as he got. Something twisted in his gut the further he got into the room. He couldn’t explain it, and no pictures popped into his head when he did so. He just had a bad feeling, and he knew to trust it. “So, we got bedrooms?” he asked and turned around to close the dungeon off, hoping it wasn’t too fast to draw unneeded attention to it. Apparently not, because Sam motioned him out of the room.</p>
<p>Down, you guessed it, another hallway, Sam pointed out his and Dean’s rooms next to each other, which Dean peeked into, and then they continued to the library. Dean hadn’t been overly interested in it before, but standing in the space with the big wooden tables, lamps, and books stacked up, he could only imagine how helpful it was to them.</p>
<p>“This is crazy,” he muttered and ran his fingers along just a few of the book spines.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Turns out the librarians were good for something. There’s other storerooms in the bunker, but we can get to those tomorrow or something,” Sam said. He pulled out a chair at the table, to which Cas did the same, and sat down. Dean kept standing, fingering through a few titles on various creatures and findings, some of which were new even to him.</p>
<p>They lapsed into silence for a few moments, and when Dean looked up from his book that he was turning pages in, he was struck by how much the even stacks of books looked like those in Bobby’s house. Oh man, he must love this place. It was a little far from Sioux Falls, but still.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he said as he turned to the two men seated at the table, “Bobby ever drop by here? I mean, the distance is a little much, but he must love it.” He turned back to the books with a fond smile on his face before the silence got to him.</p>
<p>They should have responded, right? Some sort of affirmation? He turned back to them a bit slower than he had the first time to see Sam suddenly very interested in the pencil on the table and Cas looking back at Dean with a sad expression on his face.</p>
<p>And that loss percentage that Dean had been so worried about? He should have known what was coming, but he had to ask anyways. “He’s been here, right? Or you text him pictures of this stuff when he needs it or something? Skype over how to alphabetize werewolf nonsense?” Each question got more desperate as they were asked. And still, the silence fell back over them. “Sammy?”</p>
<p>His brother eventually raised his head, and Dean could tell that this was one of those topics that they had been trying to avoid until it was absolutely necessary. Because knowing…in Dean’s already fragile state, could…he didn’t know what.</p>
<p>“There was an…incident about five years ago,” Cas started very quietly. “The leader of a group of monsters came after you and Sam and Bobby and—“</p>
<p>“Bobby didn’t make it,” Sam finished for Cas just as quietly. “We found the bunker about a year later.”</p>
<p>So, no, Bobby had never been to the bunker. They had never skyped or called to share the vast tomes of knowledge. They had never done that because Bobby was dead, and had been for five years. And Dean didn’t remember any of it. He very slowly closed the book and put it back on the shelf.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Dean, I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you, the aftermath didn’t go well last time, and with everything else happening, I wanted…I don’t know, to see if you remembered something first that may make it easier.”</p>
<p>Of course, nothing about the situation would make any of it easier, but Dean got why Sam hadn’t told him. He got it because at that very moment, his chest was tight and his legs were about ready to run away from whatever sort of news flash this was.</p>
<p>“He…he get a hunter’s funeral?” Dean was eventually able to ask in a voice that cracked enough to betray the emotion he was trying to hide. Because he should have remembered that answer for himself, and he couldn’t bear asking about more of the details because he should have remembered those too.</p>
<p>Cas was about to answer, but Sam held up a hand and shook his head. So there was more to the story, but Dean couldn’t bear to ask any more of it. “He’s at peace, Dean, he’s in heaven, we know that for a fact.”</p>
<p>Again, something Dean couldn’t bear to ask about. He eventually nodded as slowly as he could and pursed his lips.</p>
<p>“Okay…” he trailed off quietly. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna take a shower, get this hospital and traveling stink off me.”</p>
<p>It was a lame excuse, but nobody called him on it, and Dean doubted they would have. He left Sam and Cas sitting at the table in the library, but the tightness in his chest didn’t dissipate. He followed the winding corridors down to where he remembered his room to be, the one with the guns on the walls and the nice mattress.</p>
<p>He made a beeline for the bathroom, where he got some cold water on his face and gripped the edge of the sink as if it could anchor him back down to reality. Bobby was gone, and had been gone for half a decade. How much more family did they have left?</p>
<p>So he had…two more years with him from what he remembered, hopefully. The last time he had seen him he had said goodbye and driven off in the Impala with the salvage yard in his rearview mirror.</p>
<p>That couldn’t have been the last time they had seen each other, right? No, they had to have afterwards. They had to. It just became another tick on Dean’s ‘unanswered questions that may never be asked’ list.</p>
<p>Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood like that in front of the sink, but he did eventually make his way back into the rest of the room. Once there, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked towards the nightstand. Something in him pulled to open the top drawer, where he found a pistol and a small stack of photographs.</p>
<p>It took him a second to muster the courage to pick the stack up, but eventually he had the images lying in his lap. The first was of him and mom, which brought a sad smile to his face. He flipped through the one of their family in front of the tree in their yard and eventually to one of him and Sam. Sam was younger then, closer to what Dean remembered him as, but closer even to his Stanford days.</p>
<p>The next one he flipped to, however, was one Dean didn’t recognize. He and Sam were seated at the kitchen table in Bobby’s house with beers and sandwiches between them. They were both smiling, which was funny, because surely if that had happened and Bobby had taken a picture, Dean would have remembered it. Add that to the list of things he was missing, and for once it seemed to be a decent memory.</p>
<p>He flipped to the next photo and stopped, jaw set tight. It was another photo he didn’t remember taking, and based on Sam’s hair alone it seemed to be from about the same time as the other one. He and Sam were standing against the car with Bobby in the center, his arms folded.</p>
<p>It brought Dean the smallest amount of solace that he had at least seen Bobby again after his months with Lisa and Ben…and yet…This was probably the last picture they had of him, anywhere, and Dean didn’t even remember taking it. He didn’t know how long after he had left the life it was taken, or how far before Bobby would be removed from the picture entirely.</p>
<p>That thought had him putting the pictures back in his nightstand, slamming it closed probably a bit harsher than he should have. He went about grabbing a fresh pair of clothes to change into after his shower, trying to ignore how hot his face was. It was only there that he couldn’t tell the difference between the water droplets and the few tears that would’ve stained his cheeks.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After he got out, Dean’s head was no more clear, but he still wasn’t ready to go back to the library or look for Sam and Cas. Instead, he started down one of the many hallways, looking for something to take his mind off what he had just learned. He passed by the kitchen and made a left down where Sam and Cas hadn’t yet shown him. The walls in the hallways were mostly bare, save for a few lights that spotted them, and were free of marks.</p>
<p>Except for one portion. As Dean got closer, the same feeling he had in the dungeon came back. There was a large dent in one of the walls close to where it turned into a corner. Dean brushed his fingers over the dent. Something had obviously impacted the wall rather hard and jerked back out again…</p>
<p>A hammer.</p>
<p>Just like that, a small flare of pain started in the back of his head and Dean reached up the massage it away. A hammer. He could practically feel it in his hands. He had hurled the hammer intending to hit something. Something on the wall? Had a monster gotten into the bunker?</p>
<p>But he should’ve listened to the feeling in his gut and not tried to remember anything else. A hammer was good enough, right? Wrong. If he couldn’t remember Bobby, the least he could do was remember why the hell he was throwing around hammers in the bunker.</p>
<p>He shut his eyes, ignoring the steady warning of pain in his head until a feeling bubbled up in his gut. It was one of anger mainly, but also one that distinctly didn’t belong, not at the very core of Dean’s being. It wasn’t unlike what he had felt in hell, but the overall sensation of sheer wrongness, of not sitting right in his own skin, was so much worse than that.</p>
<p>Dean followed the feeling until something like color danced behind his eyelids. It was a fleeting image, one that he tried to snatch onto but the second he did he wished he hadn’t. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, and it was fuzzy and dark around the edges, like someone had failed at editing a photo properly.</p>
<p>But his hands were holding the hammer, and the hammer was aimed at Sam’s head. His little brother had ducked just in time, leaving the hammer in the wall and Sam’s hand up with a knife at Dean’s throat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun dunnnnn, all the things are happening! Fun fact, the ending bit of this chapter was my original idea for the story, and it snowballed into this huge novel, so I was definitely glad to get it on paper, and you'll see the rest of it on Thursday! Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam and Cas heard the shower turn on from Dean’s room and it was then that they both let out a breath.</p>
<p>“How are we gonna do this, Cas? It’ll be like remembering all over again that everyone is gone. He didn’t take it well last time, and now coupled with all of this, it’ll probably be worse.” Sam leaned his elbows against the table and massaged his head. That could have gone better for sure, but the truth had to come out sooner or later.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” Cas admitted. “But…Dean is strong. He survived all of this once before, it’s just a matter of reminding him about that aspect of it I suppose.”</p>
<p>Sam didn’t have it in him to nod at the statement. “But before, he didn’t learn about all the deaths at one time. And I can tell, he needs to ask about Lisa and Ben, but he can’t.” Sam shifted his hand to wipe it down his face.</p>
<p>“Like the doctor said, we have to try to not overwhelm him. A few facts at a time, coupled with maybe a few things that he ends up recalling,” Cas sighed. “We will figure it out, we have to.”</p>
<p>Sam eventually nodded, because the only thing they could do was find a way to figure it out. A good while later they heard the shower turn off, and Sam waited a few minutes before he got up from his seat. “I’ll go see if he wants something to eat,” he said as he pushed up from the table and made his way out of the library. Sure, that was one part of the plan, the other was to make sure his brother wasn’t currently falling apart like he had last time. Sam made an immediate mental note to hide some of the alcohol just in case.</p>
<p>“Dean?” he asked quietly once he had gotten to Dean’s room before he nudged the door open a bit further. Dean wasn’t in his room, which definitely had Sam worried, and he started going down towards the kitchen. When Dean wasn’t there either, he continued down the hallways until he found him.</p>
<p>Dean was down one of the halls that they seldom even used because it was mostly just extra bedrooms, but he was standing and staring at a specific part of the wall with one hand on it.</p>
<p>“Dean?” he asked again, trying not to spook Dean as he came up behind him. It was only when he got around his brother’s side that he could see what Dean was touching.</p>
<p>Beneath his fingertips was the gash in the wall that they had never covered because the hallway was so seldom used. They actively avoided it when they had to use it, which didn’t happen all that often. It was the gash that could very well have been covered in Sam’s blood had he not ducked quick enough underneath his demon brother’s hammer wielding hand. A ball of worry immediately formed in his chest because Dean shouldn’t be this interested in a mark on the wall that he knew nothing about.</p>
<p>But Dean eventually turned and looked at Sam with absolute horror and confusion in his eyes, a signal that he did in fact know something about the gash. Somewhere, in his messed up skull, his brain had decided to supply him with that memory of trying to kill his brother, but probably not the context that came with it.</p>
<p>The almost inaudible “Sammy?” that followed was one more nail in the coffin that made Sam sure that ‘not overwhelming Dean’ would be a hard thing to avoid.</p>
<p>Deaths, Sam could explain. A demon brother trying to kill the only family he had left? Where could Sam even begin to start?</p>
<p>He followed Dean’s gaze back to his eyes, his tired, tired eyes that didn’t deserve news or memory fragments like this. “Dean?” he asked in a voice nearly as quiet, and took a step forward. He could see Dean prepare to take a step back, but he didn’t. He eventually dropped his hand from the wall, and with it, his eyes fell to a spot on the floor.</p>
<p>“What…what did I do?” Sam wan’t quite sure how to answer what came out of his brother’s mouth next; he didn’t know what Dean remembered, and it must come across because Dean added to it. “There was this, this, rage and at the same time…enjoyment,” he cut out. “I went after you with a hammer, Sammy. I almost—“ Dean stopped himself at that and shook his head.</p>
<p>Sam finally closed the distance with a single step and a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You didn’t, Dean. We can’t deal in almosts right now with what you remember and what you don’t. It ended fine, I’m fine, we’re fine,” Sam tried to assure, but the truth would eventually have to come out.</p>
<p>“Why? A…a spell? What the hell happened?” <em>What could want to make me kill my own little brother and enjoy doing it? wa</em>s the unspoken question that sat in both their minds even though it wasn’t spoken aloud.</p>
<p>Sam eventually shook his head. “It, you, were a demon.”</p>
<p>Dean started at the simple sentence, an added layer of horror crossing his face.</p>
<p>“You took on something called the Mark of Cain to help you kill a really, really bad demon. You eventually did…but you, uh, you died a little while afterwards. The Mark didn’t like that, so your soul got twisted into a demon. But Cas and I, we cured you, and it was fine.”</p>
<p>Sam could very quickly see that, no, it wasn’t fine. Even for him, it wasn’t fine, and it would never be fine. Getting Dean back to the bunker after what Metatron did was one of, if not the worst drives of his life, and he nearly wished he could forget it.</p>
<p>But more than that, it was also physically not fine. The color began to drain from Dean’s face, and it was all Sam could do to try and prop him up. Sam maneuvered them to his room, Dean complacent in his grasp, and sat them down on his bed.</p>
<p>When they sat down, Dean’s gaze was staring absently at his right forearm where the mark had been for over a year. His fingers ghosted over the surface for a split second before his hands returned to his lap, clasped tighter than they needed to be. Sam wasn’t sure if he remembered how the mark looked, or felt, or everything, or if maybe it was still a nervous tick that the red, angry mark still marred his skin in his mind.</p>
<p>“So, I got a pair of black peepers and tried to kill you and then I got cured,” Dean eventually said. “Should I be glad I got the spark notes version?”</p>
<p>“Dean, no, it’s fine-“</p>
<p>“No, Sam, it’s not fine! I tried to kill you!” His voice broke in the slightest as he uttered the last few words. His mission, his job, he had tried to end the only family he had left, and he didn’t remember how or why, just that he had done the one thing he had sworn he’d never do, even under their dad’s direct orders.</p>
<p>“And you’ve saved me probably a hundred other times after that, and a thousand before that. You weren’t you, Dean, I knew that when and before it happened, I never blamed you, not ever.”</p>
<p>But he could see in Dean’s eyes that he didn’t believe him.</p>
<p>“In the woods, I got shot last month,” Sam started. Based on Dean’s look, it was still a touchy subject. “And you got me out, Dean. You dragged me a mile through the forest, talking the whole time to keep me awake, and you kept my blood more or less where it belonged. You practically didn’t leave the hospital at all until I got discharged. That’s what you’ve done your whole life. What not-you did, wasn’t you. You’d never hurt me like that, not ever,” he annunciated the last few words more forcefully than the others, as if that could make them get into his brother’s head more before he continued in a quieter tone. “I’m just sorry that you only remember that one event, no context, no nothing, and none of the somewhat decent events that followed.”</p>
<p>Dean’s head turned up at that.</p>
<p>“You saved the world, Dean. Sacrificed yourself again so people could live. And no, not another death to add to the list, but almost. It was…we’ll get into it another time. That was you. That was Dean Winchester. The man that puts pretty much everything in front of himself. The thing that followed me through the bunker, that wasn’t you.”</p>
<p>And just like that, there was a small spark in Sam’s mind, something that could maybe bring Dean around. Dean was still coming to terms with the fact that he had practically just let Sam jump into the pit, and now he had apparently tried to kill Sam. None of it was sitting well. But maybe…</p>
<p>Sam got down from the bed to grab the box from under it, to which Dean looked at curiously. Sam pulled it onto his lap as he sat back down on the bed. He opened it and moved a few papers around before he pulled it out.</p>
<p>It being the small golden amulet on the black string that Dean had thrown away all those years ago, probably just months ago for him. The amulet that just months ago for Sam, Dean had discovered he still had.</p>
<p>Dean’s eyes immediately fell to the amulet in Sam’s hands before he put the box on the other side of the bed. He reached out, as if to touch it, but drew his hand back.</p>
<p>“How did you…? You’ve had it all this time?” Time being months, years, whatever, it was still time.</p>
<p>“We weren’t in a good place,” Sam said slowly. “I pulled it out of the trash just in case, I don’t know of what, but I couldn’t bear the thought of it sitting in a junk heap somewhere. It means too much. Then and now.”</p>
<p>After another few seconds of staring at it, Sam gestured towards Dean with it, and his older brother picked it up. He turned the small charm over in his hands, as if inspecting it to make sure that it was real.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have thrown it away,” he said it in a whisper and shook his head to go along with it.</p>
<p>Sam matched it with a shrug. “You were pissed. We weren't exactly in a good spot with the Apocalypse looming and everything. But honestly, it was just some angels probably messing with our heavens.”</p>
<p>Dean looked up curiously at Sam, as if waiting for an explanation. “You really think none of my memories with you would be in heaven? Or that we wouldn’t be stuck together for all eternity anyways?” It may have been years ago for Sam, but it had always sat uneasily with him, and he remembered it like it was yesterday. Going to heaven wasn’t something one would forget, and the fallout afterwards from what they had experienced had cemented the event into Sam’s head.</p>
<p>“I guess so,” Dean replied, with an almost wistful look on his face, like he didn’t quite believe Sam, not yet, but he desperately wanted to. “Doesn’t erase the fact that I’m still sorry about it,” he eventually admitted, his hand making a fist around the charm.</p>
<p>“Nothing to be sorry for, Dean,” Sam said evenly. “Everyone does things they regret, now you don’t have to anymore.” He needed Dean to not regret something that was already years in the past, something that Dean himself couldn’t comprehend yet. If Dean felt guilty for everything, which he had a tendency to do, he’d dig himself into a hole that Sam and Cas wouldn’t be able to drag him out of.</p>
<p>Dean eventually nodded slowly, but he didn’t go to put the charm over his head, not yet, he wasn’t quite there. They sat in silence for a few moments before Dean stood up. “I’m…gonna grab some air. I’m assuming the staircase and door leads outside?”</p>
<p>Sam nodded back. Before he could open his mouth, Dean was already finishing getting rid of his worries. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured, “staying within shouting distance.” With that, he grabbed a jacket from the chair in his room and shrugged it on, necklace still in his pocket, the familiar weight that felt almost alien at the same time.</p>
<p>He left Sam in the room and walked back towards the map room, casting Cas a smile as he passed. The stairs going up clanged of metal with his boots, and the door creaked when he opened it, but the slight tunnel did eventually lead to the outside. Dean tugged his jacket around him a bit tighter, as it was still cold outside, even in the setting sunlight. He climbed up the small set of stairs and then leaned against the railings in front of them, looking out at the sparse trees.</p>
<p>Dean let out a sigh, creating a white plume in front of his face as he did so. He pulled the necklace back out of his pocket, turning it over and over again in his hands. It took a few moments before he slipped it back over his head in the peace where Sam couldn’t see just how much it still affected him.</p>
<p>It was, always had been, and always would be a sign of his relationship with his brother. He had gotten rid of the necklace once, and Sam had followed soon after. Those were two mistakes that he wouldn’t be making again. The metal settled in the familiar spot on his chest and he nodded a bit to himself, as maybe things were a bit more right with their screwed up world now.</p>
<p>He just needed a few minutes to process, he told himself. He just needed to process.</p>
<p>The headache forming behind his eyes needed to fade so he could work through Bobby and apparently becoming a demon and everything else he should have remembered. Just processing, just processing, just going through the motions because once he figured it out things would be fine again. He’d get his memories back and they’d get back to hunting like normal. Things would be normal again…</p>
<p>Dean’s chest rose and fell faster than he intended as his brain raced to catch up with everything that it couldn’t. Seven years of everything that it couldn’t. People and places and events—</p>
<p>And just like that, there was a hand on his shoulder. Dean turned, expecting to see Sam at his side, but he instead saw Cas, a look of worry on the angel’s features.</p>
<p>“Hey, Cas,” he greeted, voice cracking just a bit. As his brain calmed down, he realized how cold his hands were even in his pockets.</p>
<p>“I came to check, see how things are, it’s been nearly twenty minutes,” Cas supplied, which was definitely cause enough for worry when your brain damaged family member just wanders around. “So, how are things?” Cas took another step and leaned against the railing next to Dean, obviously doing his best to be supportive.</p>
<p>“How do ya think?” Dean asked with a bit of a forced laugh before he shook his head. “Apparently I was a demon, so…that’s fantastic.” He didn’t have to turn to know that Cas’ expression had hardened at that fact. He also didn’t have to turn to know that the angel’s eyes were on the amulet that had regained its position around his neck.</p>
<p>“It is a lot to deal with in a short span of time, Dean, no one would expect you to simply be alright with that fact,” Cas brought up a minute later. “It will take time to heal, but Dr. Monroe was confident that your memories would eventually come back.”</p>
<p>“He say how long was eventually?” Dean was sure Monroe had mentioned it at one point, but it was easy for things to slip through the cracks in recent days.</p>
<p>“Anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, based on other cases, but each one is unique,” Cas answered.</p>
<p>A few months, he could manage that long, right? They could go about building and fixing until he and his old body were back to normal. But at the same time…remembering flashes like attempting to kill Sam wouldn’t be helpful. Maybe it was better if he knew the bad stuff going in? Or maybe not? He had no idea. But he turned to Cas, mouth open to ask a question, and closed it again.</p>
<p>“What is it, Dean?” Cas asked, looking a bit worried.</p>
<p>Dean looked at the ground for a few seconds before he brought his gaze back up. “Lisa…and Ben. They’re okay, right? I don’t want to be making breakfast one day and just get a flash of,” he shook his head, not wanting to imagine it. “Just so I know what to expect if something does come on? So I’m not caught off guard.” He needed to know what had happened to them, and he would, sooner or later, he just wasn’t sure which was better.</p>
<p>Cas took his time in replying, obviously weighing a few options in his head. So the answer wasn’t easy, which was great. “Generally speaking, I believe them to be okay,” he assured. Dean went to let out a sigh of relief, but the angel’s look had him holding it in.</p>
<p>“But what?” he asked slowly, because Cas was obviously holding something back.</p>
<p>“There was an…altercation. They got exposed to this life in a bad way, and you thought it would be best if I had them forget the scenario…” Cas paused for a moment, “as well as you, in order to keep them safe.”</p>
<p>So…maybe it was better to know? Or not?</p>
<p>Dean blinked a few times and moved his hands to grab onto the railing at his sides as if it could anchor him down to reality. They didn’t remember him, just like he didn’t remember everything else. It was ironic, in a sense. “But they’re okay?” he checked, just one more time, because in the end that was what mattered. If they didn’t remember him and the dark universe he came from and they lived because of it, then it was worth it.</p>
<p>Cas nodded in affirmation, his expression a bit softer but no less worried. “They are, as far as I know.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Dean replied as simply as he could. “All that matters.”</p>
<p>A lot more mattered, but their safety came first. He hadn’t wanted them to be dragged into the life, so he could make peace with the decision he had made years ago but only just learned about.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure how much longer they sat outside in silence, but eventually the sun set and the temperatures began to plummet. Cas suggested they go back inside, to which Dean agreed, and followed the angel back into the bunker.</p>
<p>Dean liked to pretend that he had left his problems and worries outside in the cold, but as he descended the metal staircase, he realized they were following him, taunting specters in his peripheral vision. Only they were ghosts he couldn’t get to leave his mind with a torch or some salt. And yet, they were haunting him all the same.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am forever annoyed that they brought back the Samulet in season 11 and then it was never seen again. So here's my fix-it for that XD Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up Thursday since college midterms have been taking up my entire life as of late.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 14</em>
</p>
<p>The next day passed slowly, quietly, and a bit awkwardly. Dean walked around with a headache for most of the day, but the instant he saw Sam, his younger brother looked at him for one second before he turned, grabbed a bottle, and placed a few pills in Dean’s hand. Dean tried to say no, because the medicine he was taking made his head fuzzy enough as was, but Sam refused. Dean was hurting, and he would take medicine to help, end of story.</p>
<p>They ended up in Sam’s room, catching up on some <em>Game of Thrones, </em>which Dean was thrilled to find was still on. They even got Cas in the room for an episode or so. The rest of the day passed by, all three of them trying to ignore the eggshells that they were walking on.</p>
<p>The day afterwards, Dean wandered into the kitchen to see Sam already up with his phone out. Sam always had been the earlier riser, and it looked like that hadn’t changed.</p>
<p>Sam looked up as Dean entered to grab himself a cup of coffee and smiled at his older brother. “Morning. How’d you sleep?” he asked and moved aside the newspaper and the cereal box so Dean could sit at the table.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged, only about half awake and not ready for the questions. It wasn’t early, but he hadn’t in fact been sleeping that well. Not at all, but he didn’t exactly want to come right out and say it only to make Sam worry more. “Fine,” he said passively.</p>
<p>Sam could obviously tell something was up just by the look on his face but he elected to say nothing. He simply nodded and put his phone down. “Good, yeah, good,” he paused for a moment. “You’ve got a check up at twelve also, down at the hospital, Monroe set one up before we left.”</p>
<p>Dean looked over his cup of coffee at Sam, his eyes narrowing a bit. He probably knew about the appointment and had forgotten. “A check up? Really? Sam, I’m—“</p>
<p>Sam cut him off by holding up a hand. “If you swear you’re fine, Dean…” he trailed off before he shook his head.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged back. “I feel good, up and around, can put on my socks and the whole nine.” When he looked back to Sam, his younger brother didn’t seem to be amused.</p>
<p>“This is non-negotiable, Dean. They need to check medication, probably take another scan, make sure everything’s alright.” Dean opened his mouth to refute, but Sam kept talking. “You were in a plane crash, Dean. You were in a <em>coma </em>and you had a traumatic brain injury that led to amnesia. You’re going.”</p>
<p>There was not a single ounce of wavering in his brother’s gaze, and by the way he put the emphasis on coma, Dean knew to drop his argument, no matter how much he hated hospitals and doctors and everything about this whole situation. It probably was important that he went…</p>
<p>“Hey,” Sam tried. It was soft enough to break Dean out of his own head while at the same time assuring him that Sam did indeed understand his brother’s hatred of hospitals. “If they clear you and your meds and everything, maybe you can take the Impala out for a small spin.”</p>
<p>Dean perked up as much as he could at the thought. He hadn’t driven Baby in, well, months it felt like for him, but it was probably in reality only a few weeks. Either way, it was still too damn long.</p>
<p>“Deal,” Dean eventually said and took another swig of his coffee before he checked his watch. They still had probably an hour before they had to leave so that they’d have plenty of time to get there, given Sam rode the breaks like a freaking grandma sometimes.</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Sam smiled a bit back, obviously happy that Dean had some reason to not totally hate their most recent excursion. Sam read off some of the sports stories and filled Dean in on a few Superbowl winners, and before they knew it, it was time to head out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once at the hospital, Dean was even less pleased to find that Sam would probably be in the waiting room for the majority of the time. He left Sam sitting in a plastic chair with the promise that everything would be fine and followed a brown haired nurse down the hall towards one of the smaller rooms. She left him with a gown and said that someone would be in to see him in a few minutes.</p>
<p>“Stupid piece of fabric,” Dean muttered under his breath as he changed into the gown and did up the ties. He fished the amulet out from beneath the gown, grateful to have its familiar weight back on his chest. But he figured that it would be best if he took it off, so he reluctantly placed it on top of his pile of clothes. It had only been a few days that he had it back, and suddenly having it off once again reminded him how naked he felt without it.</p>
<p>He then sat down on the table and stared at the ceiling. The white tiles were speckled slightly with different colors, and Dean tried to pick out patterns on them. It was a normal way of passing the time that he and Sam had done for forever in motel rooms when they were bored.</p>
<p>But after a few minutes, the noises from across the hall and the stillness of his own room made counting colored dots on the ceiling not quite good enough. Then again, he needed to be there, he had to be there, no matter how much he hated it.</p>
<p>Eventually there was a tap on the door, which Dean looked to as it opened and one of the doctors walked in. She was probably mid fifties with blondish hair that was up in a bun and a name tag that read ‘Rogers’</p>
<p>“Dean Winchester?” she asked, looking between him and the clipboard in her hand for a split second before she smiled at him.</p>
<p>“You got me, doc,” Dean replied with a bit of a smirk back.</p>
<p>She then nodded and placed the clipboard on the edge of the table. “I’m Dr. Monica Rogers, Dr. Monroe set this meeting up a few days ago, I got a call from his office, said you and your brother were headed back from New York, that right?” she asked, looking up from the clipboard.</p>
<p>“Mhm,” Dean hummed in affirmation.</p>
<p>“And you were in New York for…”</p>
<p>“Business. Flew out, the plane didn’t exactly fly, and yeah,” Dean shrugged, figuring all of it should have been on the chart, which it probably was and she was just testing him.</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers looked and flipped to the next page, nodding a bit as she did so. “So…got a nasty bump on the head, TBI, coma, and resulting retrograde amnesia,” she said, almost to herself, before she turned her attention fully to her patient and smiled again. “Alright. What we’ll do here today is a check up, see how you’re progressing, if any medications need changing, and take a quick scan to make sure that everything’s healing properly.”</p>
<p>Dean shrugged, not really in a position to say no. “Good by me.”</p>
<p>“Great. So tell me, Dean,” she started, grabbing a few things out of one of the drawers before she came over. “How are things in fact progressing? Headaches, dizziness, nausea, anything like that?” she asked as she waved one of the stick lights across his eyes. Dean followed it when told and when she was done, shook his head.</p>
<p>“Nope, all good,” he added a smile for good measure. He, of course, had headaches, but they weren’t migraine level, they just sucked, and nothing else. The medicine helped, but some of it made his head feel like it was stuffed with cotton balls. When he wasn’t alert, then he was anxious because anything could be slipping past him at any time.</p>
<p>“Really? No symptoms whatsoever?”</p>
<p>“All aces,” Dean affirmed.</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers turned around from where she had been writing on the papers, with a bit of a frown on her face. “And you’re sure about that?” Before Dean could open his mouth to reply, she held up a finger. “Because, just to be sure, someone with your level of injury should have some lingering side effects, it’s completely normal. With a head injury of this size, downplaying how bad it is will get you nowhere but a hospital bed because of something we could have detected but you refused to mention.” She looked crossly at him, but not angrily. Dean guessed it was because she had seen his act all too many times with different patients on a multitude of different injuries.</p>
<p>“Headaches,” he eventually muttered. “Not awful, but they’re there.”</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers smiled a bit at that and nodded, as if expecting as much. “Not so bad, was it?”</p>
<p>Dean shrugged. It was just one more reason why he hated hospitals: he was completely, totally, and utterly exposed and it sucked.</p>
<p>She then had him do a few exercises to demonstrate his motor skills, which had returned to where they were before, which she was very pleased about. His speech was also fine. The only lingering things were of course the headaches and elephant in the room.</p>
<p>“Amnesia,” she said slowly once Dean had sat back down on the table. “Sometimes memories can start surfacing, sometimes not. Have you had any?”</p>
<p>Dean took a moment to respond before he nodded slowly.</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers scribbled something else down in her notes. “Are they chronological? Did they start from what you last remember or are they random bits of time without context?”</p>
<p>“Second one,” Dean said in a voice that was smaller than what he had intended. For a split second the hammer came back into his mind.</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers nodded again. “And your brothers, Sam and Cas,” she flipped another page to get the names, “have they filled in any of the blanks?”</p>
<p>“Some of them. There’s a lot of blanks to fill in,” he replied, trying for a breathy laugh and a smile but they both fell flat.</p>
<p>She jotted down a few more things before she turned back to Dean, concern written on her face. “With how you’re healing, your memories should return. Maybe not all of them, but the majority. It’s just a matter of time and healing.”</p>
<p>“How long?” Dean asked quickly.</p>
<p>Dr. Rogers took a few moments to think before she answered. “It honestly just depends on the patient. Normally it is within a year, sometimes months, depending on the length of memories missing.”</p>
<p>Dean’s chest fell a bit at that, the gown crinkling as it did so. “There’s no way to…I don’t know, speed it up?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “The brain is a fickle thing. It does things at its own speed in ways that we can’t completely comprehend yet.” Silence filled the room, as it was obvious that had not been the answer Dean had wanted or been expecting. “But, your medication is helping, your motor and speech skills are good, those are all things to be thankful for.”</p>
<p>Dean tried to nod slowly at that. Hell, he was probably lucky he woke up at all, but it seemed to pale in comparison to what he was dealing with on the flip side.</p>
<p>“Alright, do you have any questions?” Dr. Rogers asked after giving Dean a moment to think, to which he nodded.</p>
<p>“Yeah, any way to tell if I’m good to drive?” he questioned, the smallest spark of hope flaring up in his otherwise deflated chest.</p>
<p>“So long as you’re not having a headache or taking medication specifically for a headache in the few hours around it, you should be fine,” she answered, to which Dean responded with an actual smile. So the day wasn’t completely awful then, there was one small win. Rogers asked if he had any other questions and when he shook his head, she continued. “Then I’d say we’re done here. Someone will come to collect you for a scan in ten minutes or so. What’s your schedule like the next few days?”</p>
<p>Dean quirked his head a bit at that. Was something else wrong? “Open, for the most part,” he said, a bit confused.</p>
<p>Rogers nodded and made one final note before she picked up her clipboard again. “I’d like to get you in to see our resident psychologist. She’s dealt with patients with amnesia before, and sometimes it can be helpful to talk to someone outside of family about what you’re missing. It’s helped numerous people in the past.”</p>
<p>Dean could tell she was trying to help, he honestly could, but the only thing he could think about was that he did not want to and could not talk about this stuff with a shrink. Hell, he could barely talk about it with Sam and Cas, he let alone with a stranger.</p>
<p>“I’ll give you some time to think about it, we’ll be in touch,” she said with a small smile and began making her way to the door.</p>
<p>“Thanks, doc,” Dean managed with a smile of his own. But as soon as she was out of the door, the smile dropped and his eyes fell to the floor.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The scan itself was nothing important. Lie down here, don’t move, the whole nine yards. If something was up, they’d call. Dean heard most of the details, he was pretty sure, and eventually he was allowed to get changed and head back out to the waiting room. Sam put down his phone when he saw Dean approaching and greeted him with a bit of a worried smile.</p>
<p>“How’s it going? Everything alright?” he asked, following his older brother as they began to walk towards the front of the complex.</p>
<p>“Yeah, all good,” Dean said, trying to not make it sound as flat as it felt. “Motor skills are good, they took a scan, doc said the memories should start coming back in a few months or so. I’m good to drive,” he listed off, mentioning the last thing as they neared the Impala, but Sam already had the keys out, and he was looking at Dean worriedly.</p>
<p>“All good? I know you hate hospitals, man, but what else?”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head and propped his elbows up on the roof of the car. “She wants me to see a psychologist. A damn shrink, Sam,” he muttered. When he raised his head, he was surprised to see Sam look like he was thinking it over.</p>
<p>“Maybe it would help?” he tried eventually.</p>
<p>“Help? Talking about my problems with how I can’t remember anything to a stranger? How is that gonna help, Sam?”</p>
<p>His brother shrugged his shoulders, obviously trying to get Dean to see that maybe it wasn’t all bad. “I don’t know, Dean. Maybe just getting it out in the open so it’s not sitting in your head locked up all day.”</p>
<p>Dean just shook his head at that. There was no way it was going to end well.</p>
<p>“Just…give it a chance? If it sucks, don’t go back, but it may help, Dean, and we could use all the help we can get.”</p>
<p>Dean looked across the car to his brother, who looked back with a pleading gaze. They were all trying to learn on the job, Sam and Cas included, and Dean wasn’t exactly the most open guy in the universe. Maybe it was a bit of a guilt trip, yeah, but it was born out of actual worry and the need to find something that worked, at least a little bit.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Dean ended up muttering. He didn’t see Sam’s slight smile at the admission because Sam had already opened the passenger door and was on his way into the Impala, ready to head back to the bunker that had apparently been a home for the past few years. If only he could remember it that way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading! I know this was a bit more filler but hopefully you still enjoyed :) it does directly set up next chapter and some stuff coming up later though, so it was needed. See you all next Thursday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 16</em>
</p>
<p>When the appointment with the psychologist came around two days later, Dean was notably not very excited about the experience. By some miracle, he had been able to convince Sam to drop him off at the hospital instead of waiting around for an hour. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a total miracle; Sam had been trying his best to help out Dean in any way he could, and if that meant not waiting in the waiting room, he could do that. Of course, there was the initial look of disappointment and confusion, but it was quickly replaced with one of understanding before he drove Dean over. He had still insisted on driving, despite the medical all clear Dean had gotten a few days back.</p>
<p>And…now here he was, signing himself in a full five minutes early and taking a seat in the waiting room of the small office on the lower level. Dean sat down in one of the chairs, not bothering to pick up a magazine. His phone was in his pocket so he could text Sam when he got done, but he didn’t feel like using that either. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.</p>
<p>He didn’t want to talk to some stranger about his mess of a head, that was for sure. At least he and Sam had gotten their ‘stories’ straight beforehand, so there wouldn’t be any glaring differences in histories or events that they had to fabricate in order to hide their particular lifestyle in case it should come up.</p>
<p>Dean just didn’t want the doc poking around where she shouldn’t. And yeah, he knew how it sounded, but if he didn’t want to talk it through with Sam or Cas, he didn’t want to talk period.</p>
<p>He was midway through again convincing himself how stupid it all was when a woman in probably her forties with a set of kind eyes walked out of one of the doors and scanned the few other patients in the room before her eyes settled on Dean. She smiled warmly and made her way over. Her brown hair was up in a bun, heels clacking on the tile floor as she walked.</p>
<p>“Mr. Winchester, I presume?” she asked as Dean stood up.</p>
<p>He managed a small smile. “Just Dean is fine,” he replied. Mr. Winchester? No thanks, on so many levels.</p>
<p>“Luna Hall,” she introduced back and stuck out a hand, which Dean shook. “Or Dr. Hall, or Luna, whichever makes you most comfortable. If you would, follow me, and we’ll get started,” she cast him another smile before she led him through the door, down a hallway, and into an office. There was a window looking out to the courtyard of the hospital, a sofa against one wall, cabinets, pictures, and file boxes against another, and a desk with a computer and a chair to top it all off. A table with various books and small pottery figures and a few more chairs sat in the center of the room.</p>
<p>“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Luna offered, gesturing to the room with her hand.</p>
<p>Dean had half expected some sort of therapy bed thing, and was happy to not find one. He took one of the chairs next to the table and sat down, not entirely uncomfortable. Luna grabbed a pen, making a few notes on a pad of paper in a folder she had picked up from her desk before she sat down in a chair facing Dean.</p>
<p>“So, Dean,” Luna started, eventually finishing her notes and flipping through a few pages before she brought her eyes back up. “This is more of an…icebreaker meeting, let’s call it. See how things work, maybe give you a few tips to help with things,get a bit of background, and we’ll go from there. Sound alright?”</p>
<p>It didn’t sound amazing, but it didn’t sound awful either, so Dean nodded in reply.</p>
<p>“Care to tell me a bit about yourself?” she asked next.</p>
<p>Dean took a moment before he shrugged. “Grew up in Lawrence. After my mom died, my younger brother, Sam, and I ping-ponged over the states for my dad’s work. Got through school, didn’t go to college, and picked up some off jobs here and there, usually with my brother,” he said, giving her the spark notes version.</p>
<p>She nodded slightly as she listened. “You and Sam, I’m guessing you two are close then?”</p>
<p>Dean smiled a bit at that. It wasn’t exactly a hard thing to determine. “You could say that, yeah. We were stuck together a lot while dad was working, so we couldn’t hate each other all the time,” he said, lightly joking.</p>
<p>“That would make things harder, wouldn’t it?” Another smile, another nod on Dean’s part. “And your dad, is he still…”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. “He passed a while back,” he said simply.</p>
<p>“I see. Sorry to hear that,” Luna replied, seemingly honestly sorry to hear the news.</p>
<p>“It’s been a while, it’s alright,” Dean brushed off with practiced ease. It had been over a decade…but only a few years for him, so it was probably less alright than it should have been.</p>
<p>But the way she looked at him, almost like she could see through him, made him uneasy. It would have been worse had it not been for the look of understanding that went with it. Probably because she had dealt with a lot of people like him in the past, but Dean had no real idea.</p>
<p>“What do you like to do in your free time?” Luna asked, apparently going for the whole question out of left field thing.</p>
<p>“Movies, exercise…I worked as a mechanic for a little while, so cars are a decent way to spend a few hours.”</p>
<p>“What sorts of cars?” she continued, an eyebrow peaked in interest.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged. “Whatever I can get my hands on.”</p>
<p>“The black beast I’ve seen in the lot a few times…she yours?” Luna asked with a smirk, as if she already knew the answer.</p>
<p>“How did you…” Dean trailed off.</p>
<p>“I saw your brother drop you off, I’m no psychic,” she explained with a laugh. “But it is a good looking car, must take a lot of maintenance to keep looking that good.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded again. “She’s been built up and repaired so many times we lost count, so, yeah, lots of maintenance,” he answered. Talking about cars and his somewhat fake family history…this wasn’t quite so bad.</p>
<p>“When was the last time you worked as a mechanic?”</p>
<p>“Officially, not for a while, but I helped out neighbors a few months back and all that…” Dean trailed off, mentally cursing at himself. A few months, more like half a friggin’ decade ago.</p>
<p>“You’re the guy around town to ask about what’s the funny hood noise?” Luna asked, not missing a beat at Dean’s apparent misstep, but she did mark down a few things before she returned her gaze to him.</p>
<p>Dean ‘mhm’d in affirmation, though it was more subdued.</p>
<p>Luna let the conversation drop for a few moments before she continued. “A few months may be a bit of an understatement?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Dean replied quietly with a slight shrug.</p>
<p>Luna nodded in response. “It can take patients with amnesia months to get their timelines right, there’s no rush to magically fix everything. Dates slip up here and there, it’s nothing to worry about.” Her tone was definitely reassuring, but it didn’t physically fix anything, nothing did. “Do you mind me asking? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, it’s just so I have a bit of an idea of what to work with,” she started, and continued when Dean raised his head and gave her motion to do so. “What’s the last thing you remember? In a linear standpoint, from years ago.”</p>
<p>She watched him carefully, in no obvious rush. Dean debated saying anything at all. He knew exactly what his last memory was. It was seared into his muddled brain and probably would be forever…and he didn’t exactly want it to leave.</p>
<p>He and Ben had spent all afternoon working on the truck. Dean had shown him a few things, how to change the oil, how to tighten loose things, the basics. Lisa had dinner waiting when they got in…it was a perfect, normal evening. Sam was still gone, as was a piece of Dean’s soul, but playing cards after dinner with Lisa and Ben helped in the slightest.</p>
<p>Eventually Ben went up to bed and that left Dean with Lisa, who was leaning against his shoulder as they finished up a movie downstairs. It had become almost routine for them, an entirely new routine for Dean. Instead of research, running, hunting, killing, stitching, repeating, he was spending time cooking and driving and working and fixing. But not relaxing. He never totally relaxed, not ever. He was always on alert just in case something in the middle of nowhere decided to pop up.</p>
<p>But those quiet nights with Lisa by his side were the closest he ever got to relaxed.</p>
<p>She went up to bed, he checked the protections on the house, and then followed her up. After that, everything was fuzzy and the next thing he knew, he was coming to in the even more fuzzy world of the hospital with an old Sam and an old Cas looking down on him.</p>
<p>He didn’t wake up next to Lisa, like he had expected, and he didn’t take Ben to school on his way to work like normal. The routine he had carefully begun to build up over the weeks had suddenly come crashing down, leaving him trapped in the rubble without a shovel to dig himself out and no Lisa or Ben to lend a helping hand. Because much like him, they didn’t remember.</p>
<p>That last memory he had from back when things made sense was probably the last image of them he’d ever see until he got the rest of his memories back. Dean stopped his brain right before he could go into the ‘what if you never remember everything?’ scenarios.</p>
<p>Dean eventually came back to himself, unsure of how long he had been thinking, but Luna still seemed to be in no hurry to get him to talk.</p>
<p>“I…stayed with an old friend, Lisa, and her son, Ben, while Sam was away for a while. I went to bed one night, woke up the next in a hospital. Or so it seemed,” he let out a breathy attempt at a laugh.</p>
<p>Luna only nodded slowly. “That must have been quite jarring. To have something one moment and not the next.”</p>
<p>Dean found himself nodding along to that also, because she was right. He was still getting over the whiplash in a way.</p>
<p>She shifted a bit in the chair, pen still in her hands. “I don’t suppose there’s a way you could contact them? We have a few technicians who are very good with these situations…” she trailed off she she noticed Dean shaking his head.</p>
<p>“Apparently we had a falling out and didn’t talk after,” he said eventually, wanting to talk about anything except this topic in particular.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said again, and again sounding like she honestly meant it.</p>
<p>“I am too,” Dean added quietly, still shaking his head ever so slightly. “But I mean, hey, what’s the point on dwelling on it? It happened years ago, I’m probably over it by now, no point on bringing it up,” he deflected eventually. It was a poor attempt at a cover up, but everything about this was making his chest tight. Because it was still jarring and it was still fresh and he should be over it…and he knew it wasn’t fair to anyone to think like that, but it didn’t help.</p>
<p>“Nobody expects you to be alright with every single thing the moment you start getting things together,” Luna replied in a soft tone. “You’re missing a lot of time, Dean, it’s a lot to get used to and it’s a lot to rediscover and relearn and get familiar with.”</p>
<p>Dean would have scoffed at that, but he knew she was only doing her best. She probably saw it in his face because she continued.</p>
<p>“And you can’t expect yourself to be okay with all of this either.”</p>
<p>“You think I’m okay with all this?”</p>
<p>Luna shook her head. “I think you’re trying to convince yourself that you should be, but you can’t. It’s a common enough sentiment, people want things to go back to the way they were immediately, but it simply can’t happen. You need—“</p>
<p>“Time and space and a clear head and stuff like that, right?”</p>
<p>“Someone to go through things with,” Luna amended, since Dean had taken her other options. “And since Lisa isn’t here, I’m guessing Sam can help out with that, yes?”</p>
<p>Dean was about to nod, but he stopped himself. Sam could help to a degree, and Dean knew that he wanted to help in any way he could. His little brother was trying to fix his big brother for a change. But seeing the impact his resurfacing memories had on Sam…it wasn’t good. In a way, Sam was having to relive everything along with him. Bobby, Dean being a demon apparently, and whatever else would eventually come next.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean said quietly in a way that was not at all convincing. His eyes drifted down to the gold charm on his neck and he remained silent.</p>
<p>Luna, thankfully, seemed to get the hint that the ‘icebreaker’ session was getting more serious, and so she switched to another topic. She jotted down a few notes, which Dean guessed were probably topics to discuss next time, but started asking him about cars again.</p>
<p>After a few minutes of talking about how he had repaired the Impala and everything that went into it, Dean’s muscles began to relax a little. He was still more guarded, but he was grateful to be talking about something that wasn’t quite so compromising and difficult. He could talk about cars all day long if he had to, but everything else not so much. He knew the time would come when he’d probably have to talk it through, but it wouldn’t be this session and this day.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As promised, Dean texted Sam as soon as the hour was up and leaned against the wall of the hospital’s exterior for a few minutes, enjoying being out of the confines of the office. The Impala eventually rumbled up, Dean watching carefully to make sure that Sam was driving it alright.</p>
<p>Instead of just picking him up, Sam pulled into a spot, shut the car off, and got out of the seat before he tossed Dean the keys.</p>
<p>“You’re serious?” Dean asked, a bit of light in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Hey, doc said you’re cleared to drive, so why not?” Sam replied with a slight smile on his face as he walked around to the passenger seat and got in.</p>
<p>Dean pretended that it was just Sam getting back into normal habits and not a distraction from what he must have looked like after the session, but Dean would take any attempt at normal he could get.</p>
<p>Dean jingled the keys in his hand for a moment before he slid into the driver’s side and put the key in. Man, he had missed driving Baby and they were still in the parking lot. Sam watched him more carefully than he usually did, but he had reason, as Dean got out of the lot and onto the streets.</p>
<p>“How’d it go?” Sam eventually asked, as Dean hadn’t given him a report on it.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged, keeping his hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. “Fine. Was like an icebreaker session. She asked about my life, we talked about cars, stuff like that,” he said, omitting some of the details.</p>
<p>Sam nodded at the explanation.</p>
<p>“Set up another meeting, she thinks once a week would be good,” Dean added, to which Sam turned his head to look at him better.</p>
<p>“And you’re okay with that? I mean, that’s good to hear, just want to make sure it’s alright,” Sam said, having not expected the total 180.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t hurt, right?” Dean said, casting Sam a quick glance. He didn’t want to go back necessarily, but both his brother and the doc had points. “Besides, she’d hound me if I said no,” he added as a bit of a cover.</p>
<p>“Good point,” Sam let out a breathy laugh, though Dean’s little brother senses let him know that Sam wasn’t totally buying the whole thing. Which was fine, because Dean wasn’t buying it all either.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once they got back to the bunker they said hey to Cas, talked a bit, and collectively got something together for dinner. They ended up in Sam’s room to watch an episode of <em>Game of Thrones, </em>of which Cas was pretty confused about, having come in during the middle of a season. Amid his somewhat stupid questions Dean found himself smiling as he and Sam explained, but there was still something irking him.</p>
<p>If only he could explain the mess in his head as well as he could explain the mess of plot lines on screen…</p>
<p>He excused himself to go to bed after two episodes, but even after getting ready and shutting off the lights, his brain kept going. He was thinking, trying to dig at memories that weren’t there, trying to find ways to word everything to Sam and Cas that wouldn’t cause them to relive it all over again.</p>
<p>By the time he looked back at his clock, an hour had passed, the bunker was quiet, and Dean sat up in bed. An idea had started forming in his head, one that was getting harder to push down.</p>
<p>He needed out, he just needed some space to think. Sure, he had a room by himself, but he needed actual space…just for a few hours. Being trapped in the office and then stuck in an underground bunker with no windows definitely wasn’t helping anything. There were two places that made sense for him to go, but after some thinking, he had it narrowed down to one. It was a few hours away, but it was one of the last places where things made some semblance of sense.</p>
<p>Soon, Dean was up and putting on his boots, mind made up. Sam would be pissed, Cas too probably, but Dean needed to go. Just a few hours to sort things out, he told himself. He wasn’t dropping off the face of the earth, he was just going on a mental health trip. Somewhere away from the expectations and looks of sympathy and understanding.</p>
<p>Dean scrawled a quick note in explanation and left it on his pillow, because Sam would probably check his room first for anything. With practiced stealth, Dean slipped out of his room, past the library, and down to the garage without encountering Sam or Cas or making a sound.</p>
<p>He creaked open the Impala’s door and got in, smiling for a split second at the familiar position behind the driver’s seat, before he got the car turned on and drove out of the garage, hoping the walls were thick enough to mask the sound of the growling engine.</p>
<p>The ground passed quickly under the tires on the backroads that crisscrossed Kansas. Dean didn’t need a map for where he was going. The sun eventually began to rise and by that time, his phone had rung five separate times, but remained untouched on the passenger seat. On the sixth time, Dean pressed play on whatever tape had been in the player. He just needed a few hours to himself, by himself, with nothing else. Sam would probably catch up anyways. What Dean would do when Sam found him, he didn’t know, but he’d figure it out…more or less.</p>
<p>That was the story of their lives, anyways, they’d figure it out. No reason to stop with that motto now, no matter how poorly it seemed to be working.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hoping you guys liked the discussion and little peek into Dean's head! Any guesses as to where he's headed and how worried Sam will be? Thank you all for reading! Next chapter is a pretty substantial one, and I'll see you all next Thursday :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam had always been an early riser. Especially recently, he had a reason to make sure things were alright before he continued about his day. Still in his sleep clothes, he padded down the hallway, stopping only briefly at Dean’s barely cracked open door and dark room. Sam didn’t bother opening it further in fear of waking Dean up when he definitely needed the rest.</p>
<p>Instead, Sam headed to make a pot of coffee, which always got Dean up. Just before the sun started to rise, Sam had the coffee done and was in the kitchen pouring out a few mugs, but still no Dean, which was a strange deviation from their somewhat reliable habits. Dean still liked to sleep more, but coffee did a good job at waking him up.</p>
<p>“Morning, Sam,” Cas greeted as he walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.</p>
<p>“Hey, Cas,” Sam replied with an easy smile, going to grab a cereal box before he stopped himself and turned around. “Have you seen Dean this morning?”</p>
<p>Cas shook his head. “Is that cause for worry?”</p>
<p>Sam shrugged. “Not sure. I mean, he turned in early last night, and when he does he’s usually up for coffee,” he said, thinking out loud but he eventually shook his head. He was overthinking it, that was all.</p>
<p>“I was in one of the rooms last night, researching, but I didn’t hear anything,” Cas added.</p>
<p>That should have been a comfort, but there was something not quite right that was nagging at Sam. Still, he poured the cereal and got utensils out, maybe making a bit more noise than he should have, but Dean still didn’t appear. In the few minutes it took him to finish breakfast and get caught up with Cas, he was getting worried.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna check, just make sure everything’s alright,” Sam eventually decided aloud. Maybe the medications had knocked him out or something, but it still warranted a check. Cas nodded, remaining at his place at the table where he flipped through a newspaper as Sam made his way down the hall towards Dean’s room.</p>
<p>He propped open Dean’s door when he reached it, light flooding in as he did so. He didn’t say anything at first, hoping the incoming light wouldn’t wake his brother up immediately. But it didn’t. That light revealed an unmade bed, but no Dean in it. No boots by the dresser either and no wallet next to the bed. Sam quickly turned on the room’s lights to make sure he wasn’t just seeing something. The light’s revealed exactly what he thought he had seen, much to his dismay.</p>
<p>He continued to look around the room and even took a peek into the bathroom before he came back to the unmade bed, as if Dean had just gotten up, taken his boots and things and left. Sam’s heart immediately sped up as he noticed the slip of white paper on Dean’s pillow. Every single time Dean had left a note in recent years, it hadn’t been good. It had told Sam to let him go or that he was giving up Baby…Sam didn’t know if he could handle reading another note like that simply because of what must be coming afterwards. Notes always meant something worse was coming.</p>
<p>He walked over to the bed and with slightly shaking hands, picked up the folded piece of paper and opened it. <em>Don’t worry, Sammy, be back soon.</em></p>
<p>Of course, the first two words didn’t stop Sam’s worry at all. Soon? How soon was soon? Hours? Days? Dean just up and left in the middle of the night and just said he’d be back soon?</p>
<p>Sam pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. Dean probably needed space, he got that, but he couldn’t leave him to face the world by himself, not this time, not with everything else that was rattling around inside his brother’s head.</p>
<p>He checked over the note again, as if there would be something on the back, but there wasn’t. Then he was out of the room, taking a jog down to the garage, praying his brother had only gone for a walk and not for a drive.</p>
<p>When he flicked on the lights there, his chest tightened another few degrees. The spot where the Impala usually sat was barren with no sign that it had even been there in the first place.</p>
<p>“Damn it,” Sam muttered under his breath and broke into a run back down to the kitchen. Cas stood up as Sam came in, note in hand, which he passed off to Cas. “Impala’s gone. I don’t know where, he just up and left. He’s probably got a good few hour’s head start.”</p>
<p>Cas quickly read over the note with a scrunched brow, obviously worried by the sudden turn of events. “No idea as to where he would be headed?”</p>
<p>Sam thought for a moment before he shook his head. “No, none, he never mentioned anything…” he trailed off. “But he took his phone and there’s a lojack on the Impala in case of emergencies, we can track those,” Sam mentioned, heading back down the hallway into his room, with Cas close behind. Once he got there, he grabbed his phone and dialed Dean’s number, not at all surprised when it went to voicemail. He tried again, with the same results, and tossed the phone back onto his bed in exasperation.</p>
<p>“Sam, before we go after him, are you sure he wants to be found?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. “Obviously not, but we can’t let him be out there by himself right now, there’s too much that could happen,” he said. He grabbed his laptop and handed it to Cas. “Remember the trackers I showed you? Get those up and running, I’ll meet you in the library.”</p>
<p>Cas, thankfully, saw that the younger Winchester would not be budging on his position, and didn’t put up any more of a fight. A few minutes later, Sam had changed and grabbed a spare set of keys to one of the backup cars and met Cas in the library.</p>
<p>The angel had the Impala’s and Dean’s phone trackers set up when Sam got there. His phone was also on the table, as he had been trying to reach Dean as well.</p>
<p>“Any luck?” Sam asked, leaning over the back of the chair. Sure enough, there was a dot on the screen that was steadily moving.</p>
<p>“It says that he has been heading east for approximately the past three hours. Is there a specific destination that you could recognize?” Cas asked, looking up from the screen at Sam.</p>
<p>He studied it for a moment before he nodded. It was a long shot, but due east and slightly south meant Lawrence, at least he hoped. What Dean would be going to Lawrence for though, he had no idea. “Yeah, it looks like he’s heading to Lawrence.”</p>
<p>“Your home town? Why?”</p>
<p>Sam shrugged his shoulders and went to put on his jacket. “No idea, but I’m taking one of the other cars and I’ll follow.”</p>
<p>“I should come with you,” Cas started, but Sam shook his head.</p>
<p>“No, Cas, you need to stay here. I need you to call me when he stops or if he takes a detour, alright? And call him every few minutes. Maybe he’ll get fed up enough to actually pick up,” Sam muttered. After seeing that the angel agreed to the plan, he nodded once more and started off for the garage, leaving Cas in the library with the computer.</p>
<p>He tried calling Dean again as he made his way to the car, and again it went to voicemail. After a string of curses floated through his mind, Sam finally reached the car and started off in the direction of Lawrence. He went a bit faster than the speed limits allowed, but only because he knew his brother was probably doing the same thing and he had to reach him before anything happened. Hopefully there was a logical reason, but as Sam kept driving, he was less and less sure.</p>
<p>His phone finally rang an hour later and Sam hurriedly picked it up. While it wasn’t Dean, it was Cas, and that meant news. “Hey, Cas. Tell me you’ve got something,” Sam said, putting the phone on speaker.</p>
<p>There was some slight rustling on the other end before Cas responded. “Both trackers have stopped in the same location, just outside of Lawrence,” he supplied.</p>
<p>“Got a specific spot? How far out?”</p>
<p>A pause came before the answer. “There is a specific spot,” Cas started, leaving Sam to wait for the other half of the sentence. “He went back to Stull Cemetery.”</p>
<p>Those two words made Sam’s grip on the steering wheel tighten immediately. He had been thinking Lawrence as in their old house if anything…but not that horrible place. “And you’re sure that’s where he is, Cas, absolutely positive?”</p>
<p>“I would not mistake this location, Sam,” the angel replied, his tone conveying just how sure about it he really was.</p>
<p>Sam let out a sigh. “Thanks, Cas,” he eventually got out. “Call if anything changes, I’ll let you know if anything develops on my end.”</p>
<p>“Of course, Sam. Bring him back.” With that, the call disconnected, and Sam was again left by himself.</p>
<p>There was no way in hell he was coming back without Dean. He pushed the car a bit harder, but even at its top speed, it would take at least three hours to get to Dean, provided the weather held up at its current barely above freezing temperature. Why his brother had gone to Stull of all places, Sam had no idea. But that combined with the note Dean had left formed a pit in Sam’s stomach, somewhat akin to the one he had jumped into all those years ago.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dean was half surprised to find that the old boneyard was still more or less standing when he drove up. The years hadn’t washed away the tombstones or the few wooden structures that littered the area. It looked just as Dean remembered from a few months ago in his own head.</p>
<p>He eventually parked and turned off the Impala and stared out the window, not doing anything else. He had planned on heading here, and now…here he was. He could have gone to Lawrence, but he didn’t need those added painful memories. He could have gone to Lisa and Ben’s house, but he didn’t know who lived there anymore, and they wouldn’t remember him anyways. Bobby’s house, if it was still standing, was out of the question.</p>
<p>Dean had narrowed down his options and by process of elimination, Stull was the last solid location that had meant anything concrete to him. It was awful and horrible and was the site of the literal almost apocalypse, but it was the last place that still made <em>sense </em>to his muddled brain. He knew everything that had happened in painstaking detail. Everything that let up to it, during it, and everything that followed up until the amnesia clicked in.</p>
<p>Sam, Lucifer, Michael, and Adam had all been gone. Cas went back to heaven. Bobby went back to his house. Those were the concrete facts that he knew. He could lean on them. There weren’t any strange memory flashes or worries that going around a corner would trigger the fact that he had been a demon for a time.</p>
<p>It was just an old boneyard, and that was what it would remain for everyone outside of the little circle of hunters and an angel that had stopped the apocalypse.</p>
<p>Dean eventually got out of the car, phone in his pocket, not bothering to check how many missed calls he had now. He walked through some of the graveyard, taking in the silence and the fact that it was just him and him alone out there with his thoughts.</p>
<p>He stopped when he reached the somewhat circular portion of grass that remained dead after all these years. Dean didn’t have to even think about why that portion of grass was dead. Opening up a portal must have done hell on the root systems in that area, anyways.</p>
<p>That patch signified the last time, in his linear history that he remembered, that he thought he’d ever see Sam. Not the still towering, slightly scruffy, more weight on his shoulders younger brother that was physically older than Dean felt. But the younger brother that didn’t deserve everything the world threw at him, that only a few years back still had bangs. It was quite a change.</p>
<p>Slowly, Dean decided that standing was pointless, and while the ground was slightly wet, he didn’t mind. He crossed his legs under him and sat down next to the dead patch of grass and began pulling at it with his fingers.</p>
<p>This was what he had wanted: a bit of time and some space to think things through. But what did he really need to think through? Acceptance? To what degree? A way to fix all of this? Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon.</p>
<p>Dean let out a half angry sigh and turned his head towards the cloudy sky above him, as if looking for answers. But God hadn’t stepped in with the apocalypse, and unless they had become friends or something with the deity in recent years, Dean doubted the man upstairs would step in for something as seemingly simple as a Winchester losing his marbles.</p>
<p>He wasn’t necessarily a man that was good at asking for help, and even less so on a strictly personal level. It wasn’t like Sam and Cas didn’t need help with this whole thing either, but unlike normal, he was fairly powerless to do much to help them while trying to help himself. He hated it.</p>
<p>“What am I supposed to do?” he quietly asked the dead grass in his fingers, as if it could answer him. He had to be patient and wait for his memories to come back, but even then it wasn’t a complete guarantee. And it wasn’t an immediate solution. Dean didn’t do well with patience without a guarantee that it would pay off in totality at the end.</p>
<p>He kept toying with the grass until his fingers practically became numb from the cold weather, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t stop when he heard the other car roll up. His eyes remained on the dead circle in front of him and he knew that his brother had come to drag him back to the land of the living.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sam had followed the road, breaking a few speed limits as he did so, before he finally reached the cemetery and slowed down. It was late morning, but that didn’t help much with the cold weather. He drove the back up car slowly through the broken gate and fought down the memories coming to his own mind.</p>
<p>Rock of Ages, Lucifer beating Dean to a pulp, the pit…Sam kept his eyes on the ground in front of him and shut off the car as soon as he saw the Impala. He didn’t immediately see Dean, which was cause for worry, but there was no way Dean would leave the Impala too far away from himself. Sam called Cas to tell him the news before he got out of the car.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth to call for Dean, but promptly closed it, not knowing what sort of headspace his brother was in at the moment. Trying to calm down did nothing as he weaved around headstones, finally stopping in his tracks when he spotted his brother. Where he was and everything about his body language did a good job of almost breaking Sam’s heart.</p>
<p>Dean was sitting cross-legged on the ground, almost like a child. His back was hunched over and his fingers were rolling something around in them, probably grass, but Sam couldn’t really tell. He was on the outskirts of a dead patch of grass in the shape of a circle and after another second Sam realized that was where the pit had opened up.</p>
<p>In Dean’s memory, this was the last place he had seen Sam. And then, Dean’s leaving to come to Stull made just a bit more sense.</p>
<p>“God, Dean,” Sam whispered under his breath, which puffed out in front of him. Dean had to be freezing, but he didn’t move as Sam made his way over.</p>
<p>“Dean?” he asked quietly when he got close enough, reaching out a hand to just barely brush his brother’s shoulder. Dean’s hand stilled its movement, but his eyes still weren’t totally focused, like he was deep in thought.</p>
<p>Sam got down to the same level as Dean, sitting down beside him in the dead grass, not wanting to tower over his older brother, whose larger than life persona didn’t seem to want to fit into the form on the ground.</p>
<p>“What’s goin’ on, man?” Sam said a minute or so later when Dean still hadn’t replied. He kept his eyes on Dean and watched as his gaze began to regain some sort of life.</p>
<p>“You found me,” Dean eventually said in a gruff voice. It was a statement, he had expected Sam to find him, just maybe not so quickly.</p>
<p>“Of course, Dean. Can’t let you go on a road trip without me,” Sam replied, and tried for a smile. He was just glad that this time he had found Dean, there didn’t seem to be an impending doom or physical danger. The silence returned, and while Sam was doing his best to be patient, he needed to know how bad off things were so he had some idea of how to fix them. He opened his mouth to ask again, but Dean beat him to it.</p>
<p>“Just…thinking,” he slowly answered Sam’s question. “Sorry ‘bout runnin’ out, I just needed some space.” His tone was apologetic, even in his state he knew how worried he had probably made Sam. But his eyes didn’t lift up to look at his brother.</p>
<p>Sam nodded at that. “Answer your phone next time?” he asked. It wasn’t much to ask for, and it brought more peace of mind than a mad dash to the former site of the impending apocalypse.</p>
<p>Dean didn’t reply, but he dropped the grass from his fingers and shifted, his gaze still on the circle.</p>
<p>“You know, this,” he gestured weakly with one hand to the ground in front of them, “I never thought I’d see you again, Sammy.” With that quiet admission, he finally lifted his pained gaze up to look at Sam. Sam, of course, knew, but it didn’t make hearing the sentence from his brother’s mouth any easier. “And that…that is one of the last things that makes sense to me. How screwed up is that?”</p>
<p>He tried for a laugh and a smile, but ended up just shaking his head. He didn’t have to put on the bravado. Not when Sam had driven hours, probably knowing what he was going to find. But Dean was still trying to shelter him, in whatever small way possible, from the storm inside his mind, and Sam could tell that it was eating away at him.</p>
<p>“You jumped in, I went with Lisa and Ben, who don’t even know I exist anymore, and the next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed. You’re older, Cas is older, Bobby’s dead, I was a freaking demon, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg I’m guessing,” Dean’s voice raised a bit in caliber and he took a breath to steady himself.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what else is in here, Sam,” his voice dropped down again as he vaguely pointed to his own head. <em>And I’m scared to find out </em>was right beneath the surface and went unsaid, but Sam heard it all the same. “Other world ending events? Someone else we care about biting the bullet? Me? You?” He cut himself off at that.</p>
<p>“Dean,” Sam said gently, trying to stop the tirade, but Dean’s thoughts kept spilling out.</p>
<p>“What if I never remember any of it?”</p>
<p>The question sat like the elephant in the room that it had been the second Dean woke up from his coma. The big, giant, ugly ‘what if’ was now spread out on the patch of dead grass beneath their feet.</p>
<p>“You will, Dean, the doctors all say you will, you just need to give it time.”</p>
<p>“But what if? Sam, our lives are practically made of ‘what if’ scenarios going wrong. This could just be another to add to the list,” Dean replied. His shoulders sagged a bit further, as if changing their shape under the weight of the question that was finally out in the open. “What if I never get back <em>seven years </em>of memories? No context, no linear plot, just a flash here or there of a body on the floor.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Sam stopped him from continuing any further with a hand on his knee. “That’s absolutely, completely, and utterly the worst case scenario. It won’t happen.”</p>
<p>Dean opened his mouth again to protest, but Sam beat him to it. “If it does, which is a big if, then we deal. We make new memories. You’ll have a blank spot, but we can work on filling it in with time. And yeah, a lot of it’s bloody, but it’s not all bad.”</p>
<p>Dean’s head turned up a bit at that, looking at his brother curiously.</p>
<p>“We will work through it, Dean. But this,” Sam gestured to the air around them, “running off, leaving notes, not telling Cas and I what’s going on, that doesn’t help anyone. We need to help you on this Dean, you need to let us, that’s the only way any of this gets better. It’s okay to share the weight for a change.”</p>
<p>Dean had gotten better with it over the years, granted it was to a degree, but Sam was still dealing with newly post-apocalypse Dean that had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t know how much Dean had shared with Lisa about their…situation, but he doubted it could have been very much. He needed to know that he had people to lean on that got it.</p>
<p>“Help me help you,” he summed up. Dean’s eyes drifted back to Sam’s and it took a few seconds before he slowly nodded.</p>
<p>“Stone number one?” Dean asked, like Sam had mentioned a little while back.</p>
<p>The mention of that moment made Sam smile in the slightest. “Stone number one,” he agreed.</p>
<p>They lapsed into silence again until Sam could see some of the tension lessen in Dean’s shoulders and he sighed. The exhaustion was probably catching up with him, Sam noticed. He didn’t know when his brother had woken up, or if he had slept at all, and how long he had been out in the cold. Sam stood up, knees cracking just a bit after having been seated for so long. Dean watched him get up, but made no movement to himself.</p>
<p>Sam stretched down a hand and after a moment, Dean grabbed it and Sam’s forearm and together they hauled Dean up from the dead grass.</p>
<p>It was Sam’s way of saying ‘I’ve got you’ and Dean’s silent reply of ‘I know’. They then slowly began to make their way back to the car, Sam sticking closer to his brother’s side just in case, leaving the patch of dead grass and the elephant in the room behind them. The note had meant a storm was coming, but this was one that they could ride out together. It wasn’t like they had any other choice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...thoughts? ;) This is a bit of a turning point in Dean's mentality, so I hope you all enjoyed it! This was another one of those chapters that I was thrilled to finally be able to write. And, some good news! My midterms are done, so I've had time to edit/update the next chapter, so it'll be posted on Sunday, woohoo! Thank you all for reading!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting Dean to the Impala took a few minutes longer than it should have, as his legs were stiff and the rest of his body was cold from having been sitting tense on the ground for so long. Eventually, Sam did get him situated in the passenger side and only left for a second to grab a blanket out of the trunk and take a moment to compose himself.</p>
<p>He’d pulled Dean back from the edge, and in the very location where Dean himself had failed to do the same years ago when the fate of the world hung in the balance. But this, piecing his brother back together, surely it would be easier than trying to piece back the world…right?</p>
<p>He got into the front seat next to his brother and unfolded the blanket to place over Dean’s lap. He didn’t refuse it and he didn’t take it, he just sat and stared blankly out the window, as if in a trance.</p>
<p>When Sam turned the Impala on and pumped up the heat, the legos in the vents started to rattle. Maybe it was that, or the eventual warmness that started to fill the car, but slowly Dean started to come back to himself. Sam wasn’t driving anywhere until Dean was.</p>
<p>Dean cast a glance out the side window where the car Sam had used was sitting. He then turned back to Sam with a questioning look on his face, but didn’t open his mouth. It was fine, Sam got what he meant. He could still understand his big brother’s coded facial expressions. “Dean, it’s fine. Cas and I will pick it up or something. Or it’ll sit here, we’ve got plenty of backups, and it’s not exactly a car we’re tied to,” he explained.</p>
<p>Dean seemed to take that explanation, his form losing a bit of its rigidity. His fingers found the edge of the blanket and began fiddling with it, which Sam took as a decent sign. Slowly, he shifted the Impala and turned it around and away from the cursed place that had once taken him and had almost taken his brother.</p>
<p>He had a few ideas forming in his head. The first was easy enough to accomplish, but the second was still in progress. It may take some convincing, but after that, it would probably help. Sam just had to figure out how to bring the subject up.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Almost three hours later, the Impala hurtled back into Lebanon. It was mid-afternoon now, and aside from a few words here or there, Dean hadn’t said much of anything. His color had returned, which was good, and his eyes followed the highway as they drove, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.</p>
<p>However, he did register when they pulled off the main road and into a small diner just outside of a little shopping mall in town. Sam got into a spot and turned off the car before he looked to Dean, as if for approval. They’d been to the diner a few times before, not enough to be easily recognized, but enough so that they knew both the food and service were worth returning for.</p>
<p>“I’m guessing you didn’t eat before you left?” Sam brought up.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. “Left a bit in a hurry,” he affirmed quietly. “They got anything good here?”</p>
<p>Sam smiled just a little bit at that before he nodded. “Apparently they do waffles pretty well,” he replied, not mentioning the times they had been there. Dean had gotten the waffles every single time, and had not once been disappointed. It was a safe bet for brunch, at least. “You warm enough? We have extra jackets in the back,” Sam mentioned, seeing as how Dean had only just then shrugged off the blanket in preparation for getting out of the car.</p>
<p>“ ‘m fine, Sam,” Dean said shortly. But he caught himself quickly and softened his tone and added in a quick “thanks”. It had already been a long day, and Sam wouldn’t blame Dean for being a little out of sorts. Whether his thanks was a means to put up a facade as to not worry Sam or an honest apology, Sam didn’t know, but he hoped the latter.</p>
<p>Even in the afternoon, their breath still made puffs of white clouds in front of them before they got into the diner. A young red-haired waitress who introduced herself as Emily got them situated before she left for a few minutes to give them time with the menus. The diner, for the most part, was fairly empty, given the off time. When she came back with a pot of coffee, Dean got the aforementioned waffles and Sam took pancakes.</p>
<p>“Waffles are basically pancakes, what’s the big deal?”</p>
<p>“They’re partially crispy pancakes with built in syrup wells, Sam, how can you favor flat, squishy circles over these?”</p>
<p>It was a conversation they had years ago, and had stuck to their respective sides of the debate ever since. But Sam didn’t have an exact date for the argument; was it something Dean remembered or had it gotten lost too?</p>
<p>“Still with the pancakes?” Dean eventually brought up and tried for a smile.</p>
<p>So then it was part of the memories that Dean still possessed. For that one, small fact, Sam was still grateful. “I stand by my squishy circles,” he defended. It was easy, normal even, to come up with a reply to it. Almost like old times, but not quite. Even the one sentence made it apparent that Dean was trying too hard for things to in fact be normal when just hours ago he’d been freezing his ass off in the middle of a cemetery.</p>
<p>Dean let out a soft ‘whatever’ and grabbed his coffee cup. The few seconds it took him to put sugar in allowed Sam a moment to text Cas to let him know that they were in Lebanon but had stopped to eat. When Sam looked back up from his phone, Dean’s eyes were on him.</p>
<p>It didn’t take a genius to figure out who Sam had been texting. “Cas okay?” he asked. His sudden disappearance hadn’t just affected Sam, but Cas too, and it was obvious by the look on his face that he had once again realized this.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s fine. Just making sure the drive went okay,” Sam replied easily. “The drive” was also in reference to Dean, and on simple terms, both were going ‘okay’.</p>
<p>They were silent for a few seconds before Dean spoke again. “Sorry about the whole…rushed exit thing,” he apologized again.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head at that. “Dean, you’ve only been out of the hospital a week, and there’s some pretty heavy stuff that comes with that,” he said in complete understanding. “No apologies needed.”</p>
<p>While Dean did eventually nod back at that, it was evident by the way he toyed with his slightly chipped coffee mug that he didn’t totally buy it. But then again, it was just like Dean, and Sam knew it: carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.</p>
<p>Emily came back again with their orders, which thankfully brought some much needed lightness to the otherwise dreary day. She then offered to pack up a few coffees to go (probably because they looked like they needed it) but also because she seemed like a nice person. Her long, red hair bounced slightly as she walked to give them the to-go cups and bid them a safe drive back wherever they were going.</p>
<p>The brothers took the coffees with a smile and it wasn’t long before they were back on the road, only about fifteen minutes from the bunker, which was a relief. Dean was back, and for the most part things were alright, that was what mattered.</p>
<p>“What now?” Dean asked a few minutes into their drive.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Sam replied, not quite getting what it was referring to.</p>
<p>“With this whole…thing. We got a game plan?”</p>
<p>Sam thought for a moment before he shrugged, one hand on the wheel. “Same as always, I guess. Talk it through, keep Cas and I in the loop about what’s going on,” he threw Dean a quick glance on that point, “see Luna, take your meds, maybe a movie here or there?”</p>
<p>“Fun plan,” Dean replied sarcastically, but at least it was something. Maybe, in the tiny little ways they thought might help fix this, they could all combine to eventually form a solution.</p>
<p>“It’ll work, Dean. It just needs time. More than a week of time. And it needs communication. Whatever’s going on in your head, you need to let someone know. It’s not a…a burden you’re placing on Cas or I to let us know what you’re dealing with, alright?” Sam probably spoke a bit slower than he needed to, but he also needed Dean to get it. If they could prevent another encounter with Stull or a missing brother, it would definitely be nice.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean nod, eyes still on the road in front of them, but clear and understanding about what had to be done.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When they finally got back to the bunker, Cas greeted both of them, happy to see that they had returned safely. Dean excused himself a few minutes later to take a shower, which left Sam to catch Cas up on what had happened.</p>
<p>“And he was just sitting there?” the angel asked as Sam described how he had found Dean at the cemetery.</p>
<p>“Yeah, just…blank. His mind was going, but nothing was getting out. I don’t know if I got through to him or not. I mean, I think I did, but, we’ll see,” Sam said with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>“I believe Dean understands the gravity of the situation,” Cas nodded slowly, “and while getting him to describe what is going on may take time, it’s really the only option we have, and I think he sees that.”</p>
<p>Sam looked to Cas, as if for confirmation about what he had just said. “Dean can be stubborn, but he also cares a great deal. It’s just a matter of whose worry wins out, his about making us shoulder too much, or ours about him.”</p>
<p>“That about sums it up,” Sam agreed. He didn’t like it, but they couldn’t exactly force Dean to talk, especially if he had no intention of doing so.</p>
<p>They talked about the car for a minute and agreed that if, once, matters settled down, they’d retrieve it, but until then it wasn’t of much importance. When Dean came back, they settled on a few movies to watch to get their minds off the situation at hand and tried to enjoy the fact that they were still able to share each other’s company.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After the movies, Dean had decided to turn in early, as he was wiped, both physically and emotionally. This whole ordeal was taking more thinking and worrying than pretty much anything had before, and it was tiring. He had no trouble falling asleep, partially due to the medication, which made him drowsy. But when he finally did fall asleep, he dreamt of Emily.</p>
<p>Or…at least he thought he did at first. He only saw the woman from behind, and her red hair immediately made him associate her with Emily. But when she turned around, in a medieval looking outfit of all things, her face didn’t match the one of the friendly waitress.</p>
<p>Something about her though, it was too specific to just be a dream. The whole thing was too specific. Even his own clothes were covered in chain mail. They were in some sort of a tent, again going with the medieval theme. They were seated at a table with a board spread out in front of them. The board had little plastic figures on it in different colors. Dean and the woman were talking and moving them around, as if deciding the best battle strategy. It was as if he were watching the event unfold from an outsider’s perspective, but still in his own body, like he was just watching it play out and not influencing anything.</p>
<p>Dean realized fairly quickly that he liked this, even in a dream. It was easy, doing this with her, so she wasn’t someone random either, they had a history of some sort. When they did get up, she placed a plastic crown on Dean’s head and left the tent. Dean took off the crown and twirled it in his fingers, wondering what the hell sort of dream or memory this was. Had they time-travelled back? Then why the plastic?</p>
<p>He followed her outside the tent, but then found himself in another one. This one was much darker than the red one they had been in just moments earlier. When he turned around, the flaps he had come through were gone. The woman was near the side of the room, her hands up as she faced a man with a fancy looking book, also in medieval gear, chain mail and all.</p>
<p>Dean went up to them, but his actions did nothing. Again, he was just watching something play out instead of being a part of it. Even shoving the guy did nothing, and when he drew a very real looking sword to keep the woman from moving, Dean was powerless to stop him. The man kept reading from the book, and all of a sudden, the woman’s fiery red hair lit into a blaze.</p>
<p>Dean could only stand and watch in complete and utter horror as the flames engulfed her red robes until there was, quite literally, nothing left. She had gone up in flames and smoke and then…nothing. Even the man and his spell book were gone. Dean tried calling out to the woman, whose name he didn’t even know, but he couldn’t find any way out of the room or any trace that anyone else had been there at all.</p>
<p>He tried, desperately, from inside the dream, to make himself wake up, but he had no such luck. It was as if he was stuck in a loop, watching the woman go up in flames time and time again, while he was powerless to stop it. He should have been able to stop it. He should have been there for her to help when she needed it. She meant something to him, but he didn’t know what, and it was killing him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Dean finally did wake up, the collar of his t-shirt was wet with sweat. A quick check of his clock let him know that it was just past three in the morning, which was prime time for a rude awakening from a nightmare. He pushed his feet off the bed and they landed on the cool cement floor, but he didn’t yet move to get up.</p>
<p>No, he needed a moment to get his bearings. The woman, there was something about her. But as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t come up with anything. Seeing Emily earlier though, it must have triggered some sort of…something to do with this other woman that Dean couldn’t remember.</p>
<p>Sam would remember, though. If she had been that important to Dean, there was a good chance that Sam knew something about it. He was about to get up to see if Sam could help, but he stopped himself. What if the woman had been important to both of them and had in fact gone up in an inferno? What if she was dead and Sam wouldn’t want to go through it again? Or, what if she never existed in the first place and Dean’s mind was just playing more tricks on him? How much crazy could Sam take?</p>
<p>Dean pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath. He couldn’t exactly run off and find answers. No, the only answers were here in the bunker, and Sam could help. Hell, Sam wanted to help, that had been the whole point of the previous day: convincing Dean that he had people to turn to when he needed help with this stuff.</p>
<p>But even amid his younger brother’s reassurances, the what-ifs still bombarded Dean’s mind in rapid succession. It was almost five in the morning before he finally got up out of bed and padded down the hall to Sam’s room.</p>
<p>The red-haired woman in his dreams, who looked so happy, always went up in flames, and Dean needed to find out why. That need, coupled with Sam asking Dean to ask for help finally led him to his younger brother’s door. It was already cracked open, and Dean took a breath, trying to assure himself that he was in fact doing the right thing, before he pushed it open a bit further, a multitude of questions on his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...any guesses as to what Dean's brain is helpfully spitting out at him? We're halfway done with the chapters now, wow, but still have more than half the word count to go. As always, thank you all for reading, and I hope you have a good weekend!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam had never been an extremely heavy sleeper. Growing up in the life, having to constantly be looking over his shoulder, waiting for a monster to burst through a window at any moment, did that to you after a lifetime. So when he heard some soft noises in the hallway before anyone should be up, Sam was immediately awake. Fully alert, no, but his hand was closed around the grip of the gun under his pillow.</p>
<p>His door slowly opened and light came pouring in. The only thing that kept Sam from pulling out said weapon was Dean’s familiar silhouette standing in the doorway. He didn’t make a move to come in, he just stood there and watched Sam, as if contemplating something. When Sam’s eyes finally opened all the way, Dean shifted from foot to foot.</p>
<p>“Dean?” Sam asked groggily, letting the gun rest under his pillow as he checked the time and reached to turn the lamp on. It was about five, so not as early as Sam had expected, but the previous day had worn him out. It had worn both of them out, and Dean should have still been sleeping. “Everything okay?” He flicked on the light and one glance at his brother told him immediately that no, everything was not okay.</p>
<p>In simple terms, Dean looked like he had seen a ghost. His face was a shade paler than it should have been and he was wearing a confused look on his face that twisted his features in the slightest. “Dean?” Sam tried again, fully swinging his legs out so he could sit on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>“Didn’t want to wake you, Sammy,” Dean started quietly and pursed his lips, “but, you know, what you said, and I can’t get this damn image out of my head no matter how hard I try—“ he cut himself off.</p>
<p>“Hold on, what image?” Sam asked. It was obvious by Dean’s state that he was fairly shaken up by the whatever he had seen, or had thought he had seen.</p>
<p>“She won’t stop burning,” Dean whispered in a tone that had Sam’s face dropping in color a few shades.</p>
<p>“Dean…who?” Sam slowly got up from the bed and made his way over to the door, where Dean was watching him, as if weighing how much to say. Sam immediately thought he meant Mom, who else could he be talking about? Maybe a nightmare? Something else entirely? “Was it Mom? A nightmare?”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. “There was a woman with red hair. It was…it was too clear to be a nightmare, Sam. The details were too perfect, too crisp, you know?” He had furrowed his brow, trying to make Sam understand when he did in fact get it, through and through.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know what you mean. But you gotta give me more than a woman with red hair that won’t stop burning,” Sam replied, now fully awake. Ever so slowly, he steered Dean towards the bed and he sat down on the edge. Sam sat down on the edge of the bed too, about a foot away, and angled his body so that he could watch Dean. Red hair, that narrowed it down to a few people at least, given it was actually a memory and not something else. “It wasn’t Emily, was it?” he asked. He honestly hoped it wasn’t their past waitress, but maybe seeing her had shaken something loose?</p>
<p>Dean shook his head, and Sam gave a slight motion with his hand for Dean to then continue. He opened his mouth but closed it again. He clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands, which were wrung together in his lap. Even in the very, very early morning, Sam could read Dean like an open book. It was the same thing they had just gone over: Dean didn’t want to burden him in case it turned out to be a bad memory.</p>
<p>“Dean, I can’t help and fill you in and give you context if you don’t give me something to go off of,” he eventually said, trying to convey that he was understanding of Dean’s attempts, but he didn’t need protecting.</p>
<p>“What if it just dredges up a whole crap load of bad things for you? What if she isn’t even real?” Dean asked and raised his eyes to Sam’s.</p>
<p>The younger hunter shrugged slightly. “You and your memories come first. Help me help you,” he reminded. If Dean kept all of this in, it would pile up on his shoulders until it crushed him, and then they’d both be screwed. Dean would be in so many pieces that Sam and Cas wouldn’t be able to help put him back together.</p>
<p>Dean took another few seconds before he finally sighed, knowing that Sam wouldn’t back off now that he had come for help. “We were in this tent, this medieval tent of all things. She was in these red robes and I was wearing freaking chain mail and we were moving little plastic figures around on a battle map. She had red hair and she put a crown on my head and…” he trailed off. Because now it was Sam that had the blank stare on his face.</p>
<p>Of course he knew exactly who Dean was talking about. And it wouldn’t be an easy thing to hear about, not on either of their parts.</p>
<p>“Yeah, red hair, medieval, keep going,” Sam said, his voice cracking just the slightest. It had happened almost a year ago, but it was still raw, and it probably always would be. This wasn’t just something you got over. He needed to know what Dean remembered, and then he could fill in the blanks.</p>
<p>Dean watched him carefully for another moment before he muttered a ‘crap’ under his breath and shook his head. “She left, and I followed her into this other dark tent. Then this skinny guy, he was holding a book and a sword to her throat and he read from the book…and she went up in flames, Sam,” he said, as quietly as he could manage. His eyes held a haunted look that Sam hadn’t seen in a long time, not even right after Charlie had died. That look had been anger, fueled by the mark, but this, this was something else.</p>
<p>“And she kept going up. Over and over and over. It was like a replay button. And I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t do anything. <em>I couldn’t save her</em>,” he annunciated. “She obviously meant something to me and I couldn’t save her, Sam, what the hell does that mean?” Dean’s voice rose in the slightest, but Sam was still reeling over his brother’s words.</p>
<p><em>I couldn’t save her. </em>That seemingly simple statement echoed in his mind. Dean couldn’t save her in the dream and he hadn’t been able to in real life. And Sam…he didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly put that whole bloody mess into words?</p>
<p>“Who is she?” Dean’s voice was almost desperate, and if Sam weren’t in such a state of shock himself, he would’ve answered right away.</p>
<p>Instead, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, as if either of those would make it any easier to explain what came next. “Was,” he corrected. He didn’t need to go into more detail, because Dean leaned back and shook his head again.</p>
<p>“She’s gone?” Dean checked, and when Sam nodded slightly in affirmation, he closed his eyes. “Damnit,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I should have known something bad was tied to it,” he said quickly.</p>
<p>“Dean, no, this is exactly what we were talking about—“</p>
<p>“And this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen!” Dean cut him off. “My brain, picking out the worst things to give me without context. I’m a demon, Bobby’s gone, and now, someone else we know and were probably pretty close to is dead. Again. And you’ve gotta go through it and explain it and relive it and watch me take it in. I can’t keep doing this to you, Sam, I won’t, memories be damned.” He started to get up to leave the room, hands clenched into fists as if he could fight his way past the demons lurking in his head. He was resorting to his protective mode, and while usually it was helpful, in this case it would hinder whatever sort of healing Sam could help with. And he wasn’t about to let Dean push it all away.</p>
<p>“Charlie Bradbury,” Sam got out, almost hurriedly, hoping just the name would be enough to stop Dean in his tracks. And it was. Dean paused midway through getting up and looked at Sam, almost guiltily. “Her name was Charlie.”</p>
<p>“We met her right after Bobby died, she worked in the tech section of the company run by the monster that killed him. She didn’t know her boss was evil, and she helped take him down in the end. Next time we saw her was at the medieval thing, a live action roleplaying get together,” Sam said. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Dean was once again seated, but Sam’s own focus was on keeping his voice steady.</p>
<p>“Got rid of the threat there, the skinny guy enslaving a fairy. And you two, you had the best time. You got all dressed up and put on a wig and led her forces into battle,” he said with a slight, fond smile on his face. In those years where everything seemed to hit the fan, it was definitely one of their better memories, and Sam was glad that at least in some capacity, Dean had part of a good memory…even if it was shrouded in darkness.</p>
<p>“No fire?” Dean asked eventually, trying to put the pieces together.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head ever so slowly. No, no fire, but he knew where the fire came from, and that was a memory that maybe he’d rather not have.</p>
<p>“What—what happened?” Dean continued. He wasn’t pressing, he could see all over Sam’s face how much he didn’t want to, but needed to, go over this with him. If not, Dean’s questions would swim around his head without an answer, and that never ended well. Besides, he had come to Sam for help, even if it was turning out exactly how he didn’t want.</p>
<p>“You took on this brand, a curse, called the Mark of Cain, to help you kill a demon. When you…died,” he heard Dean suck in a small breath at that, “the Mark took control and gave you a set of black eyes. Cas and I fixed you up, and found a codex with a spell to remove the Mark, and Charlie tried to break the code to be able to read the book.”</p>
<p>It all seemed so simple when he explained it like that. None of the ugly background or the blood on their hands or watching Dean turn into something he didn’t want to be. Just another solution to another problem. Dean was cursed, and they needed a spell to break it. Yeah, that was simple.</p>
<p>“But…there was this evil, evil family that wanted the book. Charlie sent us the way to crack the code, but they, ah, they caught up with her before we could get to her.” Sam left it at that for a moment and grit his teeth. Even a fair amount of time after, it still stung, and it always would. Walking into that torn up motel room and finding her…it still haunted him. And knowing that he was a part of what put her in that position…</p>
<p>“And we burned her?” Dean asked carefully. Sam just nodded back, and the pieces fit together with the fire and the medieval memory. A nightmare wrapped in loss wrapped in the attempt to find a solution to a problem. In short: a mess.</p>
<p>“Did we get the guys that did it to her?”</p>
<p>Sam looked up, surprised by the sudden ounce of protectiveness in Dean’s voice. It was a second-nature thing that Sam had learned to pick up on and he nodded. “They weren’t a problem after that,” he answered, not wanting to go into details on that either. The last of the Stynes had been wiped out by the man who couldn’t remember what he had done. The dead bodies he had found in the bunker, the bloodied angel on the floor…</p>
<p>“What was she like?” Dean asked. It was part out of curiosity, part out of the need to understand why exactly she had meant so, so much, and apparently still did.</p>
<p>Sam sighed and the corner of his mouth turned into the slightest smile. “She was a genius, could hack into anything. And she was positive, funny, determined, and…stubborn,” he said, “she was always willing to help, no matter what.” With that, the smile fell from his face and silence washed over the room.</p>
<p>“We were close to her,” Dean said, almost to himself. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, something he knew deep down to be true even if his mind couldn’t supply the reasons why.</p>
<p>“Like the little sister we never had,” Sam replied, a sad smile crossing his face as he did so. And the ‘little sister’ they’d never see again because a monster had stabbed her and left her bloodied body in a bathtub for them to find. Because they had to burn her on a pyre and watch the white cloth go up in flames to ensure that she’d hopefully never be stuck with more suffering. Because she had helped Dean behind his back and—</p>
<p>“Sammy.” It was said quietly, but with just enough force to get Sam away from his thoughts. Sam looked up to find Dean’s eyes on him and a light hand on his knee, reminding him both mentally and physically that he was there.</p>
<p>Dean’s gaze held an added heaviness that it hadn’t before. The fact that he had been the cause of this emotional turmoil and that Sam had willingly submitted to it was evident all over Dean’s face.</p>
<p>“Maybe…for now…it’s better you don’t remember all of it, not at once anyways. Just things like this, you know,” Sam got out. If Dean didn’t remember some of the loss they had endured, he’d be going around with a bit of a blank spot, but maybe his soul would be lighter. Was it worth it?</p>
<p>Dean was watching him carefully, as if he was weighing the same options in his head.</p>
<p>“It was…it was bad, Dean.” He didn’t necessarily mean for it to come out, but it slipped past his lips. It had been bad, it had been awful and terrible and messed up and dark and it still hurt. But they never really went through it. Dean went off on his own, got rid of the Stynes, and made a deal with Death, until Sam stopped it. Then Amara came into play, and that took up the majority of their time after. They never really dwelled on the loss too much, definitely not as much as they should have.</p>
<p>It had been overshadowed in the course of events that followed. But this, revisiting it so that Dean could understand, had taken him right back to when it happened and the issues that never quite got smoothed over. Things they never talked about and put to rest.</p>
<p>Sam didn’t need to say anything else. He looked up, eyes slightly burning, and in Dean’s entire posture, he simply saw the understanding. His older brother, minus the memories of the event, was fully able to capture its horror just by how shaken Sam still was because of it.</p>
<p>And maybe it was that understanding, or a need to reassure Sam, or something else entirely, but in the next moment Dean had shifted his position closer to Sam on the bed. Without much awkwardness, he pulled Sam into a hug, which the younger Winchester clung onto. Chick flick moments didn’t apply in this scenario, they were entitled to a few.</p>
<p>It was the reconnection they never truly got after Charlie died, and Sam was not about to be the first to break that. They both held on for their own reasons and for a single shared one: the reassurance that the other was there and always would be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who else is on board the emotional discussion wagon? *raises both hands* I hope you guys enjoyed this! No update this Sunday unfortunately, I'll be posting a tag to Red Meat instead, so if you're interested, keep a look out! Thanks so much for reading! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean wasn’t quite sure how long they sat like that, arm in arm, but Sam wasn’t breaking away and Dean wasn’t about to initiate it. His head was quite honestly pounding with the new information, and again he cursed the stupid amnesia for putting them in this position. He didn’t ask for anything else other than Sam’s ‘it was bad’.</p>
<p>Maybe it would come to him in a dream, or in a flash, or never. Maybe it was better to not remember how Charlie, a woman who was like a ‘little sister’ to them, had been killed. Maybe, maybe, maybe, his whole freaking life was filled with maybes.</p>
<p>But not Sam. Sam and Cas, they were the solid rocks upon which his castle crumbled and would be rebuilt.</p>
<p>When they finally did pull back, Dean’s hand lingered on his brother’s shoulder. It was evident by the way Sam’s eyes kept searching for something, anything, from his posture to the way his shoulders slumped to the way his face was fallen…reliving the memories hadn’t done him any good. But maybe talking about it had. He seemed sad, sure, but maybe a bit…lighter? Either that or Dean’s little brother reading skills had been failing as of late, which even in his state, he doubted. He eventually dropped his hand and Sam ran a palm across his face, as if wiping away the last remnants of the memory.</p>
<p>It was pretty clear that neither of them would be getting any more sleep, not that Dean had gotten much in the first place. They continued to sit in silence until Sam broke it by standing up from his bed, a gesture which Dean mimicked. “Sam?” he asked carefully, just another check to see if things were okay in any way, shape, or form.</p>
<p>Sam cast him the smallest of smiles, he was at least trying to be reassuring. “Follow me,” he simply said, and didn’t provide any other information. He walked out of the room, down the hallway, and Dean followed in sock-clad feet. Sam led them to the garage and flicked on the lights. The cars were immediately illuminated, and in the warm light Dean could clearly see that Baby was in need of a wash. He felt bad for not having noticed it when he had taken her before, a few hours driving and then sitting in the dust had led to some being stuck to her normally dark, glossy exterior.</p>
<p>“Why are we here?” Dean ventured. He didn’t have shoes or keys, and neither did Sam, they’d have to go back inside if Sam wanted to go for a drive, which they often did and Dean wouldn’t be opposed to.</p>
<p>Sam made his way over to some of the shelves in the corner and came back with a decent sized box, which he passed off to Dean. Dean held it with one hand and looked through with the other, seeing various liquids and other tools that could be used to change the oil and other running fluids in a vehicle.</p>
<p>“You mentioned needing to get her oil changed before we left on our last hunt, that you’d do it after we got back from it since it came up so quickly,” Sam started his explanation. “You went out and got everything beforehand, so we’d have it when you got back, but it didn’t pan out…” he trailed off.</p>
<p>“Because you got hurt,” Dean finished. The image of Sam’s fresh scars immediately came to Dean’s mind. That was one memory he figured he’d always have, though the memory of the event itself still remained hidden from his reach.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Sam nodded. “Then the thing with the Brits came up, then…but she could still use a tune-up. So…if you wanted, I don’t know, something to work on?” he said it as a question, when he knew that Dean would take him up on it immediately.</p>
<p>It wasn’t just something to work on. It was a sense of normalcy that was so seldom present in their lives as of late. It was an opportunity to actually do something productive that he knew how to do. It was muscle memory and actual memory combined. It was a chance to clear his head and sort through what had happened, and it never worked better than when he was working on the car, and Sam knew it. So hells yes, Dean would take Sam up on it.</p>
<p>Dean nodded, and with a faint smile, set the box down next to the Impala’s front wheel. “Thanks, Sammy,” he said genuinely. Sam nodded back, obviously happy that Dean had agreed with his idea.</p>
<p>They both walked back into the bunker in silence, where Sam mentioned about going on a run, his preferred method of clearing his head, and Dean grabbed his boots from his room. They parted ways again in the map room, Sam heading up the stairs and out into the world, Dean continuing on to the garage with a few work towels slung over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Hey, Baby,” he greeted her casually, and rapped his knuckles lightly on the hood of the car before he slid the box over. “Let’s fix you up, hm?” He popped open the hood and just in taking a quick peek, he was happy to see that his present/future self still took impeccable care of the irreplaceable car. Dean had expected nothing else.</p>
<p>Dean filled some of the silence by humming a few tunes under his breath while working, or filled some of it with speaking. Baby was a good listener, after all, and after so many years together, she knew Dean as well as Sam did. Call him crazy or whatever, but it eased him in the slightest to talk through a few things with something familiar that wouldn’t judge him this way or that or be hurt by what he said. The rest of the time, he just let silence fill both his head and the garage.</p>
<p>He did a total oil change, as he knew how to do like the back of his hand, added water in for the wipers, replaced the coolant, and generally gave the rest of the engine a tune-up. When he finished, the car still needed a wash, but her engine was as good as it would ever get.</p>
<p>But before the wash…another slight thing that had irked him. The doors always squeaked, but it was slightly worse on the passenger side than it had been in a while. Maybe she had been dinged or something had shifted, but Dean got down on the ground to make sure that nothing was amiss other than a screw needing tightening or some oil needing to be administered. He opened and closed the door a few times and determined that it was on the bottom hinge. After some repositioning, he wedged himself between the door and the car itself and tightened whatever screws held the door in place. He moved, opened and closed the door, put some oil on it, opened it again, and the squeak had faded to its normal amount.</p>
<p>“If only everything else were so easy to fix,” he said quietly, even though Baby was the only one there to hear him. He patted the bottom of the seat next to him, but didn’t yet move to get up. He sat on the floor, legs stretched under the open passenger door, back up against the passenger side seat and metal exterior, and let out a sigh.</p>
<p>Had Charlie ever ridden in the Impala? If they were as close as Sam said, she must have, which meant that the car had more memories of the flame haired woman than Dean did. It was an odd thing to think about.</p>
<p>Had Lisa and Ben been in the car? Not since he could remember. As soon as he got to the house, Baby had gone into the shed. Dean convinced himself that it was because she needed fixing after she had broken a few of his falls that Lucifer had dished out, but that wasn’t it. He could replace a windshield in a day with the right materials, paint scratches in hours, and have the metal un-dented before day two was done and then she’d be drivable again. But that wasn’t it.</p>
<p>It was the fact that after Cas flew back to heaven, Dean was left with an empty passenger seat, one that would never and could never be filled again.</p>
<p>Or so he thought.</p>
<p>So Baby had gone into Lisa’s empty side garage with a tarp over her until…well, Dean didn’t quite know. He had to have taken her out at some point. Sitting next to the car, he liked to think that Lisa and Ben had been in it. Maybe they’d taken her out for a few spins, or hell, maybe even a day trip if things were really looking up. Maybe he’d shown Ben a few things to do with the engine like he had shown Sam those years ago. And here Dean was, back to the uncertain maybes until his brain could give him the information to turn the maybes into positive or negative facts.</p>
<p>Nothing like some car work to get the wheels in his brain turning again. The floor wasn’t quite as comfortable as it had once been, which made him wonder how long he had been sitting there. He had half a mind to get up, wash off the car, and head back inside…but he could sit a few more minutes.</p>
<p>Or he would have, if he hadn’t heard quiet footsteps coming up the stairs to the garage. Dean expected it to be Sam, back from his run, and was somewhat surprised when he heard Cas’ voice.</p>
<p>“Dean?” the angel called. He had paused at the top of the stairs, probably surveying the area, seeing as how the driver’s side faced the door, so Dean was hidden from view.</p>
<p>“Other side, Cas,” Dean spoke up, not wanting to worry him.</p>
<p>Cas’ boots sounded on the cement before he appeared around the trunk of the car, where Dean looked at him. “I apologize for interrupting, Sam mentioned you were here, and after he returned from his run we made breakfast.“</p>
<p>“And Sam sent you to summon me for a pancake?” Dean asked, a slight smile on his lips.</p>
<p>“Yes, he did,” Cas nodded back. “Is everything alright?” he was looking between the car and Dean.</p>
<p>“Hm? Yeah, her engine’s sparkling, and I fixed up a squeaky hinge, she’s as good as she’ll ever be,” Dean replied, but Cas was still looking at him. So the question had been mostly directed at him, then. “Just thinking, Cas.”</p>
<p>“About anything in particular?” Cas ventured a few steps closer. After a few moments of gazing down on Dean from six feet above, Cas made the decision to sit down against the car next to Dean.</p>
<p>The hunter shrugged. “What’s there not to think about?”</p>
<p>“Sam mentioned Charlie when I asked about it. That must have been a…heavy conversation to have, I am sorry for all these realizations that you are being faced with, Dean.” His face was one of slight sorrow, and it was there that Dean realized Charlie had probably been a friend to Cas too.</p>
<p>Before Dean could reply, Cas continued, his eyes watching the light bounce off one of the older cars in the garage. “And I am sorry that I can not do more to help. Usually, head trauma like this, I would be able to fix, but in the past few years, it has not been possible. Scrapes and bruises I can help with, but this type of centralized, serious damage I can not heal,” he said, and looked back to Dean. The sorrow had morphed into regret.</p>
<p>“Hey, Cas, it’s nothing to be sorry about,” Dean assured, and shifted ever so slightly so he didn’t have to crane his neck quite as much. “You’re doing as much as you can, Sam too, that’s all you guys can do, and I do appreciate it.” He made sure to annunciate it, as if that alone would help Cas understand it. He still didn’t know the story behind why Cas couldn’t heal like he used to, but that didn’t really matter, because the angel was still by his side where he could help.</p>
<p>“I still wish I could assist more,” Cas admitted with a slight shake of his head.</p>
<p>Dean was silent for a few moments. “You wanna help?”</p>
<p>Cas’ head turned up at that and he nodded, as if eager to do anything that could assist in some capacity.</p>
<p>“I need to finish washing the car, then grab breakfast, you up for that?” he asked.</p>
<p>Cas thought for a few seconds before he looked back at Dean, puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to properly wash a car by hand.”</p>
<p>Dean let out a laugh at that, he should have figured. “It’s not hard, I’ll show you,” he offered, to which Cas nodded. The angel got up first, and gave Dean a hand to leverage himself up from the awkward position between the door and the car itself.</p>
<p>Dean then gave Cas the full run down. Buckets, water, soap, sponges, how to wipe it in circles (he may have used a <em>Karate Kid </em>line that Cas was somehow familiar with, which Dean would have to ask about later). Dean found a hose off to the side and used it to spray down the Impala, which they both then dried off.</p>
<p>In half the time, they were done, and once again the Impala was sparkling, and looked much better than before. Dean carried the buckets and sponges to one of the garage’s sinks and left them there, as he’d get it all put back eventually.</p>
<p>“Thanks for the help, Cas,” he made sure to say when he came back to the car, which Cas seemed to be admiring.</p>
<p>The angel smiled a bit back at him, apparently happy that while he hadn’t directly been able to help Dean’s condition, maybe he had been able to ease his mental state in the slightest, and that counted for something.</p>
<p>“Now, breakfast?” Cas nodded back at the question and Dean clapped a hand onto his shoulder before he turned and headed down the stairs into the rest of the bunker.</p>
<p>Sam, having returned from his run, taken a shower, and cooked in the time Dean had spent in the garage, had a stack of pancakes waiting when they returned, plates and syrup already on the table.</p>
<p>“Car repairs go okay?” Sam asked as he got a few cups of coffee onto the table as well, shooting Dean and Cas a glance.</p>
<p>Dean nodded in affirmation. “Baby is squeaky clean and ready to go,” he answered before he took a seat at the table and began dragging a few pancakes onto his plate. Sam brought over Dean’s meds with the coffee before he too sat down, Cas following suit.</p>
<p>“That’s good to hear,” Sam replied, with a genuine smile on his face. Finally, something they could actually fix for the better. Both brothers were a bit more at ease following their preferred methods of clearing their heads. They settled into an easy back and forth across the table and one by one, pancakes disappeared, until they did ‘not it’ on who had to do the dishes. The sense of normalcy didn’t cover up what had just happened hours before, but it served to smooth over a few things and assure everyone in the room that things would more or less work out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next few hours were spent like many others: getting Dean caught up on shows and movies he had “missed”. Of course, Sam knew which ones Dean liked so those were brought up first, and while none triggered memories, they were all still enjoyable. Though, in the routine of it all, Dean found himself getting antsy again, like there was more he should have been doing. Hunting, for now, was out of the question, at least for another few weeks. Sam had made it clear, Cas had agreed, and neither was budging on the stance, so Dean knew better than to argue.</p>
<p>But still, being cooped up in the bunker wasn’t doing any of them much good. Sure, it was for a good reason, but still. So, after the third movie of the day ended and darkness had settled, Dean announced that he was going out, and got up to get his boots on.</p>
<p>“Going out? Where?” Sam asked immediately, seeing how Dean’s last outing had turned out. At least they were given prior warning this time.</p>
<p>“A place,” Dean said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.</p>
<p>“A noncommittal answer in a situation like this is not advised, Dean,” Cas reminded, also on the fence about Dean’s suggestion.</p>
<p>“You guys are coming with, so quit nagging and get your shoes on, we’re wheels up in five.” Dean left them, somewhat confused and looking to each other for answers, in the room while he walked back out to the garage. He made a pit stop in his room first and grabbed a few extra jackets in case they needed them with the cold night air.</p>
<p>He had seen a place when Sam was driving them back to the bunker after his previous outing. It wasn’t far, or anything really special, but it had sprung an idea in his head. Maybe they had done it recently, maybe not, but it couldn’t hurt. And besides, his gleaming Baby deserved to be out in the world.</p>
<p>He slid behind the driver’s seat and smirked to himself. When the promised five minutes were up, both Sam and Cas were back in the car. Sam hadn’t said anything about the passenger door, but Dean had seen the ghost of a smile on his face when he opened and closed it to a softer squeak than it had been before.</p>
<p>“So…this destination a secret or something?” Sam again tried, the smile having faded to something more serious. Dean didn’t want to drag him along, but a surprise meant no telling.</p>
<p>“Relax, Sammy,” he said, which probably wasn’t a good suggestion, “it takes like five minutes to get there. You guys don’t like it, we’ll turn around and put on <em>Pirates </em>number…how many did they make?”</p>
<p>“Stopped counting after the mermaid one,” Sam replied with a sigh, having acquiesced to Dean’s ‘surprise’ outing. Cas, meanwhile, was silent in the backseat, watching the exchange go down.</p>
<p>Dean turned the Impala on and waited just a moment, listening to the engine, before he threw her into drive and got out of the bunker’s garage. Outside, it was just as he had hoped: clear winter skies. The drive only lasted a few minutes before Dean pulled off down a small, dirt road that really led nowhere but stopped by a fairly flat field. He parked the car and looked to Sam, who seemed to have some inkling of what was going on, but the angel in the backseat didn’t.</p>
<p>“I fail to see the importance of this outing, Dean. We are surrounded by dirt and dead grass,” Cas said, and tilted his head a bit as he tried to figure it out.</p>
<p>“That’s ‘cause you haven’t looked up yet,” Dean replied with a smirk. He tossed an extra jacket at Sam, who took it but didn’t yet put it on, and got out of the car. His breath made puffs in the air as he came around to the trunk of the Impala and leaned against it with a sigh.</p>
<p>The sky was what he missed most while being cooped up in the bunker. There was no direct line to the sun or the stars above them that he had so often looked at while driving. While the car could seem confining at times, it was always reassuring that the world was spinning on, right outside the windows.</p>
<p>Sam was next to join him about a minute later, and leaned up against the trunk next to Dean. They were both silent for a moment. “You know, we haven’t done this in a while,” Sam brought up quietly, as if a louder voice would break the peace around them.</p>
<p>“Why not?” Dean asked, not turning his gaze away from the stars.</p>
<p>He heard Sam’s jacket shift as he shrugged. “Been a crazy past few months, not much time to spend outside.” He didn’t elaborate, but it was clear by the way he too looked up at the sky that he had missed it.</p>
<p>Cas finally got out of the car and joined the Winchesters by the trunk. Hands inside his pockets, he too tipped his head back to look at the stars. The slight breeze that blew past them ruffled the grass and twigs around them and served to clear away any clouds that otherwise would have covered the expanse of the sky.</p>
<p>Away from most of the major cities and the light pollution that came with them, the stars lit up the night in a wide array of brightly colored pinholes poked through the darkness. They were endless.</p>
<p>It was as close to peace as Dean had ever known, made even more so by the company at his side.</p>
<p>“This view…it is different than it was in heaven,” Cas said quietly a few minutes later. “But it is no less spectacular.” He now understood the importance of the outing, and just like the Winchester brothers, stood with his head tilted towards the sky, enjoying the reminder that the universe went on, even when behind closed doors it sometimes appeared to be cracking apart at the seams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: them stargazing is probably my favorite thing ever, at this point I think it's in something like four of my stories XD I hope you guys enjoyed, thank you for reading! See you next Thursday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they arrived back at the bunker, it was well into the night. Cas, not needing much sleep, if any, stayed in the library while the brothers went to their rooms to get ready. Not much was said, as if none of them wanted to shatter the peacefulness that had seemingly settled over them, because peace never seemed to last in their lives.</p>
<p>Dean went about getting ready almost methodically, as if his muscle memory knew his nightly routines, but his mind didn’t. Still, he eventually found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, but not able to actually get in it. He was thinking, which was about the only thing he did well these days. No new memories, and whether that was or wasn’t fortunate he couldn’t say, but old ones.</p>
<p>Other nights they had spent under the stars with a beer, braving the cold to watch a meteor shower. Nights they had stayed outside, usually on a hunt, and had been able to find some small solace in the stars above them. That fourth of July memory with the fireworks, the real one, though the one in his own ‘falsified’ heaven was much more recent. Just…memories, and he cherished the ones he still retained.</p>
<p>A quiet tap at his door had Dean turning his head to find Sam standing in the threshold, clad in a soft long-sleeved top and sweats. Dean was in a similar outfit, but with a t-shirt. Even with that, it was strange to look at Sam in those clothes, which seemed so foreign on him. Dean had gotten more or less used to sleep clothes while with Lisa, but it was strange being back in them, and even stranger seeing Sam in them.</p>
<p>All the time Dean had known his younger brother, besides his kid years, sleeping was spent in clothes that could be used to run out in at a moment’s notice. Boots were often left on feet and duffels were zipped and ready to go. Just seeing Sam standing there, looking comfortable, was a marker in itself of how much the times had changed.</p>
<p>They had a <em>home </em>now where they could cook their own meals, watch Netflix, wear normal clothes to bed, and be relatively safe from whatever the hell was going on outside the thick walls. It was one of the few good strange things to come out of the whole ordeal.</p>
<p>“Dean? Something wrong?”</p>
<p>Dean had probably been staring a bit too long, but mentally shrugged it off and shook his head. “Nope, just thinking, bedding down, all that. You all good?”</p>
<p>Sam looked at him a bit cautiously before he nodded and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “All things considered, yeah, good. Going out, it was a good idea, Dean,” he added with an appreciative smile.</p>
<p>Even with everything else going on, Dean could still find some small ways to bring his brother some peace, and he found comfort in that. He had forgotten a lot, but his big brother instincts were still right on the money. “You said we haven’t done it in a while?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head at that. “Never really found the extra time, I guess, between research and everything else,” he paused afterwards. “What’s on your mind?”</p>
<p>Dean let out a sigh and shrugged. “Remembering past times we did it, then. Things are a lot simpler when it’s just us and Baby and the sky.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me,” Sam replied with a bit of a laugh. “Any one moment in particular?” Maybe it was genuine curiosity that made him ask, or the fact that Dean had been staring at the wall for far too long after Sam had come in, but either way, Dean took a few seconds before he replied.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t exactly peaceful,” he said with a faint smirk on his lips, “but the fireworks. Hell, we almost lit that whole field on fire, but it was awesome. You looked so happy about it, Sammy.”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, when your brother surprises you with fireworks and your first interaction with them is seeing them shoot into the sky and explode into a million colors…you tend to look a bit happy,” Sam replied. It was evident from the look on his face that he still remembered the night perfectly well, even though it had been decades ago and he had been fairly young when it had happened. While this night would in no way eclipse the previous memory, it was definitely a step in the right direction towards rebuilding.</p>
<p>“Explosions…gotta love ‘em,” Dean said, maybe trying just a bit too hard but he didn’t care.</p>
<p>To his credit, Sam slightly laughed it off and nodded in agreement. “I’m expecting you to top it next fourth of July,” he said.</p>
<p>Dean only nodded at that. Sam, sensing an ending to the short conversation and the already late hour, rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and stood up straighter. “You good?” he checked again, just to be thorough.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Sammy, I’m good.” Still thinking, but Dean didn’t have to try hard for his honest answer. How much would change before that promised July, he didn’t know, but for today, things were good. He figured that sooner or later it could crumble, but then, for that night, things were good and peaceful. Both Winchesters slept more or less soundly, their guardian angel silently checking in on them a few times throughout the night to make sure of that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>December 19</em>
</p>
<p>In the morning, Dean awoke to a call and a voicemail from Dr. Hall wondering if he could come in a few days early, as she’d had a cancellation and wouldn’t be able to see him again until after the holiday break. He called back to say yes, fine, and while Sam was reluctant to let Dean go out on his own (his previous solo outing hadn’t quite gone well), he eventually agreed. Dean had to be trusted to make his own decisions, and promised to call before he drove back, and left Cas and Sam back at the bunker.</p>
<p>The Impala shone brighter than she had on her last visit to the offices, less weighed down with the dirt and dust that had been plaguing her. Dean figured that maybe he was a bit the same, but the degree still had yet to be determined. He only had to sit in the waiting room a few minutes before he was called back and sat in the same chair as last time. Dr. Hall walked in a moment later, apologizing for running a little behind, and pulled out a file and a notepad from her desk before she sat down in the chair opposite Dean. Her hair was down this time, but her gaze was no less welcoming than it had been before.</p>
<p>Dean still wasn’t comfortable with the whole talking through things, but he wasn’t quite as opposed as he had been the first time. As long as he didn’t have to explain every single little thing that was going on in his head, another view on things could help.</p>
<p>“Again, Dean, I’m sorry for the late notice and seeing you again so soon, but there wasn’t another way we could get you in before the holidays where we take a bit of time off with the exception of emergencies,” Luna said, practically repeating what she had said over the phone.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged at that. “No problem, not like I’m doing much these days,” he replied. It was true. She wrote down a little something before she looked back up and smiled at him.</p>
<p>“Any holiday plans if you don’t mind me asking?” she ventured.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. Not like they ever had many in the first place, but the past month had been full of events not pertaining to the holidays. They had blown past Thanksgiving while he was in the hospital, and now it was less than a week until Christmas and a week after that into a whole new year. Damn.</p>
<p>“My brothers,” Dean started, still internally amused at the fact that Cas was their officially unofficial brother for these medical matters so he’d have access. Of course, he was as close to the Winchesters as anyone would ever be, but they couldn’t exactly explain that to hospital staff. “And I, we never really did much. Moved around a lot with our dad, and odd jobs afterwards. Sam though, he fixed up this little tree with air freshener ornaments one year,” he brought up with a twinge of a smile. The memory itself was bittersweet, seeing as it was going to be Dean’s last holiday before going to hell. That and they had stabbed a few pagan gods with their own tree, but it was a part of the job. “Beyond that, small gifts, not much,” he finished, deciding he had given enough information for it to be considered a decent answer.</p>
<p>Luna nodded slightly as Dean talked, obviously a bit happy that he was deciding to share a few things. “It doesn’t have to be much to be meaningful,” she said in understanding. “Try telling that to my over the top family, but they try,” she added with a small laugh to herself.</p>
<p>“Busy holidays?” Dean asked. He found that getting a two sided conversation going made it seem like less of an interrogation, and apparently she had the same idea.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “Big meals, fifth cousins flying in from Florida, so much talking in my parent’s place you can’t hear yourself, you get the picture.” Dean indeed did, but he could tell from the way her face lit up that her family’s traditions meant a lot to her, too. “But it’s good to see everyone again, and then there’s enough gift cards to last a whole year, so it doesn’t hurt,” Luna added, obviously half joking before she paused for just a moment. “Do you happen to have a favorite small gift you’ve given or gotten that you wouldn’t mind sharing?”</p>
<p>Dean’s hand instinctively twitched up, as if to grab the amulet that was hanging beneath his shirt and jacket, where it had resided safely ever since he had gotten it back. “A necklace Sam got me when we were kids. Still got it,” he said with a little smile. “I got him a pink baton if that helps, which he absolutely loved,” Dean added sarcastically, almost to cover up just how much his own gift still meant. He guessed she’d still be able to tell, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.</p>
<p>“I bet he did,” Luna smiled back. She quickly jotted something down and asked her next question as she did so. “How are things with Sam?”</p>
<p>“Good,” Dean nodded, though the semi-long wait before the answer probably told a bit otherwise. “I mean, considering everything,” he amended.</p>
<p>“I’m hoping you’ve been going through some things with him if they happen to pop up? Memories, thoughts, something like that?” When Dean didn’t reply, his mind immediately going to their conversation with Charlie and the memories it had brought, Luna quietly continued. “Dean, did something come up?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t forceful, and Dean was grateful for that. How much could he honestly say without One: baring his soul to a practical stranger and B: saying something to convince her that things weren’t as ‘good’ as he hoped they were? Mentioning his little excursion to Stull was out of the picture for sure.</p>
<p>“There was this dream…turned out to be a memory. I asked Sam and it dredged up all this stuff that we apparently hadn’t even talked about the first time around.” He said it slowly and carefully, his eyes focusing on the table in front of him and then on his hands and then back to the table.</p>
<p>“This discussion, did it help things at all?” she asked eventually, being just as carefully.</p>
<p>“Honestly? Maybe? I don’t know,” Dean shook his head.</p>
<p>“And what do you mean by that?”</p>
<p>“I only seem to remember the bad stuff, you see, and Sam goes through it all again to make sure I understand at least some part of it, since I’m not given the context to go with it,” Dean tried to explain as much as he could as vaguely as he could, which had become something of a skill given his day job. “We lost someone close to us, and he explained it.”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t like that your lack of remembering made him have to remember it on your account?” Dean nodded mutely at the question, which she seemed to already know the answer to. Dealing with a few amnesia patients probably meant this wasn’t her first time around this problem. “Is it maybe possible that you feel guilty for being the cause of that even though it isn’t really your fault?”</p>
<p>Dean sat stock still in the chair, not sure how to answer.</p>
<p>“Because it isn’t, Dean. You telling Sam about this is far better than keeping any of it to yourself, no matter what it brings up. It’s better to have it out in the open than to have him worrying about what’s going on and you trying to secretly keep it from getting out, trust me.” Her serious tone had Dean looking up to find her gaze on him, sincere and a bit forceful if it was possible, as if she <em>needed </em>him to understand this more than anything.</p>
<p>“He’s your brother, Dean, he’s going to try to help however he can, and it’s easier for both of you if you let him in. You made the right call.”</p>
<p><em>Help me help you </em>echoed in Dean’s ears.</p>
<p>“It’s not fair to put this on him,” he eventually said, and though the admission was quiet, it was truthful. He was supposed to be protecting Sam from painful stuff like this, not being the cause of it, whether or not he had a say in the matter.</p>
<p>“It’s not, not at all.” Luna shook her head at that. “But you’re here to help and look after each other, and sometimes it isn’t fair, I’m sorry to say.”</p>
<p>Dean, of course, nodded along. He knew that as well as anyone, but that still didn’t make it okay. “Wish I could help more,” he said gruffly.</p>
<p>“Everyone does. What you’re doing, keeping him in the loop, is as much help as you can give, Dean, and everyone is better off for it, I promise you that.”</p>
<p>Dean was still working on getting himself to believe it when she looked back down at her paper and her tone of voice shifted.</p>
<p>“So, aside from helping and being helped, I’m hoping you’re keeping busy in some capacity?”</p>
<p>Dean let out a breathy laugh at that. “If by busy you mean binge watching Netflix and washing the car all day long, then yeah.”</p>
<p>“Having to slow down is a change of pace, I gather?” she asked, though she already knew the answer to that one too.</p>
<p>“Just a bit,” Dean said sarcastically but nodded along.</p>
<p>“What do you and your brothers normally do in your free time?”</p>
<p>Dean shrugged. “This is it. Movies, car washes, done. We don’t typically have much free time, always out doing something.”</p>
<p>“Anything you could continue doing in your condition?”</p>
<p>“If I could, I’d be out doing it.”</p>
<p>Luna nodded slowly at that, scribbled something else, and looked back up to him. “So I take it your odd jobs then aren’t always the best or the safest for someone a month out of a coma and recovering from a traumatic brain injury with a current retrograde amnesia diagnosis?”</p>
<p>Well, when she put it like that…”Not really,” Dean said. He understood her and Sam and Cas’ points, it was just more the cabin fever that had been getting to him. The need to get up and do something. There were still monsters to hunt and people to save.</p>
<p>“Well…” Luna dropped off, thinking about an alternate option, “is there any way Sam and your other brother, Cas, could handle the more dangerous portions and you could, say, be the getaway driver?” she asked with a slight smirk. “Though I do hope you’re not serial bank robbers.”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head and smiled back. “No, not bank robbers, though if we were, I’m not a getaway driver type.”</p>
<p>“The classic car is probably easy to spot,” she brought up as Dean nodded along. “I’d suggest getting some sort of a law-abiding hobby, something to keep you busy other than the car. A purpose, say, one that doesn’t involve much danger or threat of head injury.”</p>
<p>Dean had expected as much. For the foreseeable future, then, he was still benched. “How bad would another injury be?” he eventually asked, curious as to what the worst case scenario could be.</p>
<p>Luna let out a long sigh before she shook her head. “I don’t want to venture that. Anything that presents itself as a possible way to get knocked out or even hit could be extremely damaging. You’re still healing. Another blow, of any proportion…let’s just say that it’s possible it wouldn't end well.”</p>
<p>Dean had dealt with ‘wouldn’t end well’ situations all his life, but this was a bit different. He didn’t ask if it would mean lights out all together or a less serious outcome because something in Luna’s tone conveyed just how serious it very well could be.</p>
<p>“I do understand that you need something to do, and you should find something, it would help with the healing process. Some people even find adopting a pet to be helpful,” she brought up.</p>
<p>Dean shook his head a bit at that. “Sam’s pretty allergic to most things animal related, and the moving about wouldn’t be good,” he explained vaguely. If they were gone on a hunt for, say a week with driving included, they couldn’t leave a pet at the bunker, or in whatever random motel they were staying at. While it could be helpful, it would never work.</p>
<p>“Take some time, think about it, maybe see if Sam and Cas have any ideas for a few less dangerous activities, and we can get caught up on it next time then?” she suggested with a small smile.</p>
<p>Dean found himself nodding along to that. “Sounds good,” he replied.</p>
<p>Luna took down a few more notes before she capped her pen and looked back to him. “Anything else you’d like to discuss?”</p>
<p>Stull, star-gazing, Charlie, the guilt that he was trying not to have and Sam was trying to lessen, how long it would take for his memories to come back if ever…”Nope, I think we covered all the bases,” Dean amended, saying nothing of the rest of the mess in his head.</p>
<p>“Alright then,” Luna smiled and stood up before extending a hand out to Dean, which he shook. “I’ll call when we need to schedule another appointment, probably around New Year’s, does that work for you?”</p>
<p>Dean nodded and then dropped his hand. “Sounds good,” he replied simply. They exchanged parting smiles and Dean left the office. As promised, he called Sam before he headed back to let him know everything was okay, and then sat in the car for a few minutes and thought. It was the only thing he was both good and awful at doing at the same time.</p>
<p>Eventually, he steered the Impala back towards the bunker, some form of a plan in his head, but no idea how to bring it up to Sam and Cas.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*tosses Dean into all the therapy the show never provided* Thank you all for reading! For those of you that have wanted to see some more familiar faces, we're getting up to it in the next few chapters so stay tuned ;) see you all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bunker was relatively quiet when Dean got back, with Cas not in the library and Sam not at the map table. In fact, they weren’t in their rooms either when Dean checked. A bit confused, he called out. “Sam? Cas?” The sound echoed through the stone and concrete halls.</p>
<p>“In the kitchen,” Sam’s voice came from a few doors down. They were probably making lunch, figured. Dean followed Sam’s voice towards the kitchen, where he was met with both Sam and Cas standing behind the counter, smiling just a bit, neither of them moving from their spots.</p>
<p>“There a reason why you guys are statues in the kitchen?” Dean asked when they continued to remain absolutely still.</p>
<p>“Today is December 19,” Cas supplied, as if that would be of any help, in any capacity.</p>
<p>“And…” Dean trailed off and made a hand motion for him to continue.</p>
<p>“So…you’ve officially been awake for a month,” Sam cleared up, smile stretching on his face. “Happy one month back, Dean.” The hunter and the angel slid aside to reveal nothing other than what appeared to be a pie on the counter behind them, which Sam brought forward. “Figured you’d appreciate this more than a celebratory cake.”</p>
<p>Dean hadn’t even realized the date. It had seemed like much more time had passed by, which so much happening both inside his head and out. Getting out of the hospital had taken days, then there was getting used to routines, all the new troublesome memories, heading out, coming back…it was a lot.</p>
<p>And it was clear that it was a lot to Sam and Cas too, but they were also obviously very pleased and happy that Dean was still there to celebrate his month of being back.</p>
<p>“Didn’t forget the pie, I should thank you guys just for that,” Dean replied with a genuine smile of his own that conveyed just how much the simple gesture meant.</p>
<p>Sam rolled his eyes at that and even Cas seemed to get the joke. Pretty soon, plates and forks were passed around, with Cas trying just a bit of the dessert.</p>
<p>“How’d the session go?” Sam eventually asked, after said pie had been consumed—rather quickly, one might add—and the empty tin thrown in the trash. Dean finished wiping his fingers on a napkin before he shrugged.</p>
<p>“Fine, I guess. She won’t be seeing me until after the holidays unless it’s an emergency, but…same old stuff.”</p>
<p>“As in?” Sam asked, not trying to press, but trying to stay informed. Dean knew it was for the best.</p>
<p>“Making sure I clue you guys in on things, how important it is and all that.”</p>
<p>Cas nodded in agreement from his place at the table. “It is extremely important, Dean. It is the only true way that we can be of any assistance, I’m sure she made that point.”</p>
<p>Dean opened his mouth to protest that they helped him in many, many other ways, but then he promptly shut it because she had been right.</p>
<p>“Anything else?” Sam continued, breaking the few moment long silence that had followed.</p>
<p>Dean took a second before he continued. “She said keeping busy is usually a good thing. Pets are out, obviously, and I can work on the car until my hands fall off, you guys know that, but there’s no…purpose, like she brought up, and it got me thinking.”</p>
<p>He tried to find a way to phrase it so that it wouldn’t come out like something rash and not thought through. Dean didn’t get a chance to say anything though, because Sam immediately turned to him, his face set and his mouth in a line. He knew where this was going, he knew how Dean’s mind operated. And just judging by the look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t on board.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be in the field, obviously,” he started.</p>
<p>“Dean, we literally just celebrated your one month being back, and now you want to head out again? What if you get hurt? You know how these hunts usually turn out!”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head. “Strictly research only. I could stay in the motel, or the car as a getaway driver, not get physically involved. But I could help with interviews or tracking things down,” he tried. He knew better than to put himself into the line of fire, but Sam wasn’t having it, and neither was Cas.</p>
<p>“When have you ever stuck to just research, Dean? What if we get into trouble and you know? You’ll come in, guns blazing.”</p>
<p>“I’d stay outside—“</p>
<p>“Sam is right, Dean,” the angel cut him off, looking up from the table to the older hunter. “If there were any threat to Sam or I that you felt we wouldn’t be able to handle, you’d be in the field with us immediately. And while that’s an admirable trait, it’s not advisable for situations like this.”</p>
<p>Dean stood silent. In his oh-so-well thought out plan, he hadn’t covered that. He could say he wouldn’t go after them, but it wasn’t true, and they knew it.</p>
<p>“We could start off with easier cases that you guys can handle until I’m back. I could stay sidelined…”</p>
<p>But Sam was still shaking his head. “The last ‘easy case’ we went on took a complete one-eighty in the middle of the woods and ended with two bullets in my chest. We can’t take the risk, not with you still recovering. It’s not worth it.”</p>
<p>Dean understood where they were coming from, of course he did, he’d be arguing the same if it were Sam or Cas in his shoes.</p>
<p>“The potential for further injury far outweighs what could be deemed a ‘necessary risk’ to take, Dean,” Cas added on with a nod of his own.</p>
<p>Dean grew silent, jaw clenched, before Sam came around the front of the counter and leaned against it to look at his brother. “I get it, I do,” he said in understanding, “hunting is a purpose, a reason to…get up in the morning, something to do with your time, a way to do good in the world. But even this, just researching, has a potential to go bad fast, and you know it as well as we do. And it’s not like we’ve been doing nothing.”</p>
<p>Dean’s head turned up a bit at that, looking confused before Sam continued.</p>
<p>“If something simple pops up, I send it over to Jody or someone else to look into. There’s plenty of other hunters covering this, Dean, and with everything we’ve done the past few years, if we take a few months off, the world will keep spinning.”</p>
<p>Dean still didn’t like the idea of taking any time off, period, but something else Sam had said piqued his interest. “Jody?” he asked. “As in Sheriff Mills Jody?” At least the name was ringing some sort of bell, the cop whose kid had come back as a zombie right before the apocalypse.</p>
<p>Even amid the argument, Sam seemed to drop it and smiled. “Yeah!” he nodded, obviously happy that Dean had remembered something that was still relevant.</p>
<p>“What, so…she’s a hunter now?” Dean continued and Sam nodded again.</p>
<p>“To a degree, she still runs the station, but yeah. She keeps an eye on things, us included. She’s got—“ Sam paused as he looked to Cas for a moment, who looked back up and nodded at Sam to continue. “Two somewhat adopted daughters. Alex, who was being held by vampires. And Claire…Novak.” There was space between the first and last name, and rightly so.</p>
<p>Jimmy Novak’s daughter…staying with Jody, a hunter that they were apparently pretty close with, that couldn’t just be coincidence.</p>
<p>“There is a lot regarding the situation to fill you in on,” Cas said. “She hunts occasionally, but Jody has helped with…many things.”</p>
<p>Dean couldn’t even begin to imagine the many things, or how many conversations Cas had or hadn’t had with his vessel’s daughter. That had to be hard. And because apparently that wasn’t the end, Sam kept talking.</p>
<p>“And there’s Donna,” he added. “Not an adopted daughter, but a cop from Minnesota, she’s good friends with Jody now. A bit opposite in personality, in a good way, but she can handle herself.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded slowly, his eyes widening just a bit at the influx of information that was coming in. But as he looked from Sam to Cas, it was obvious that there was something else there. “And you’re telling me about the four of them because…?” It couldn’t just be to assure him that there were other hunters out there.</p>
<p>“Jody’s been checking in throughout all of this,” Sam gestured to the air around him. “She called while you were out, wondered if we had any holiday plans, I said no, she offered to have us over. Wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up, didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Maybe it was a bit of a distraction from Dean’s plan, and it worked, it gave him something else to start thinking over.</p>
<p>That was definitely grounds for overwhelming. With Sam and Cas, it was easier, the two people he knew best from back when he could remember, and that had known him through everything he couldn’t recall. But being reintroduced and newly introduced to four people he apparently met and had relationships but couldn’t remember, and spending the holidays with them, that was something else all together.</p>
<p>But on the other hand, maybe it could be good. Get out of the bunker, rebuild some things…</p>
<p>“What did you tell her?” he asked.</p>
<p>Sam shrugged and continued. “That we’d ask you and get back to her later. There’s no pressure, Dean, it’s just an option. If you’d rather stay here with pie and Christmas music, that’s good too.” Cas nodded in agreement out of the corner of Dean’s eye. It was completely up to Dean, and while he appreciated it, he also knew that they hadn’t been out much in the world recently either.</p>
<p>“She’s up in Sioux Falls, right?” he checked, and when he was met with another few nods, he rapped his knuckled on the table. “Change of scenery may be good for a few days.”</p>
<p>The smile that spread across Sam’s face was genuine, but also just a touch unsure.</p>
<p>“Are you sure, Dean, it’s just an option,” Cas brought up, to which Dean nodded.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I think it’d be good. Get out of the bunker, have a bit of fun. It would be good for everyone,” Dean said, something in his tone conveying that it was final.</p>
<p>It wasn’t hunting, but it was something else to do, something that was more his speed for now, and it would make everyone else happy too.</p>
<p>“Can’t argue with you there,” Sam eventually finalized and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll let her know.” He cast Dean and Cas another smirk before he left the kitchen to head down one of the halls.</p>
<p>Cas was quiet across the table, almost too quiet. “Everything alright between you and Claire?” Dean asked.</p>
<p>Cas took a moment before he nodded. “It has been getting better, yes. But both Sam and I, we don’t want you to take on too much for our sakes as well,” he reminded.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged and stood up from his seat. “It’ll be fine, Cas. Besides, we probably haven’t celebrated a holiday in a while. It’ll be good.” He didn’t give Cas any time to form a rebuttal or another question before he put a hand on his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen.</p>
<p>He could hear Sam’s voice ever so slightly, drifting through the halls, and with it, an air of lightness, of normalcy. If Dean could keep it together for the next few days, he hoped and prayed that it would end up being a good thing for all of them. They could use a few more good things, after all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Over the next few days, Sam and Jody figured out a day for the three of them to come down and a general plan for the holidays. She refused to let them bring any food, since the drive was a bit long and they had enough on their plate, and gifts were off the table given the busy month they had all been through. Jody with work and hunting where she could, and the Winchesters with everything else.</p>
<p>Aside from a few headaches and strange, but not awful, dreams, Dean considered himself to be doing fairly well. There weren’t any new memories as of yet, but a quiet, confused mind was better than a scattered, exploding one in his opinion. They waited in trepidation for Christmas Eve to roll around, and when it did, they packed up enough things for a few days and set out in the morning. The drive from Lebanon to Sioux Falls took about six hours, considering Dean went the speed limit most of the time, usually only to get the slight look of worry off Sam’s face as he sat in the passenger’s seat. It was their first time far from home, out of the state even, in over a month. And while all three of them half expected something to go wrong, it was fairly smooth sailing.</p>
<p>Along the trip, Sam and Cas filled Dean in on a few things he was still missing. Hunts they had been on with Jody and Donna, how Alex and then Claire got involved, and a general overview of everyone’s histories. It was a lot to take in, but when met with them face to face, Dean knew that it would help him be less overwhelmed.</p>
<p>Sam directed Dean to the correct house once they reached the city, and Dean deftly pulled the black beast along the curb when they arrived. There was a sense of deja vu as he looked at the house, but nothing specific. They’d have to stay in a nearby motel for a few nights, since Jody’s house wasn’t made to fit three people plus three (over)grown men, but it wasn’t a problem.</p>
<p>“You good?” Sam asked once Dean turned the car off but continued looking at the house.</p>
<p>Dean took a breath and nodded. Inside were people that knew him, but that he didn’t really know. It was bound to get a bit weird, but he just hoped that it would go smoothly. Hell, they deserved that much at least. “Yep, what are we waiting around for?” he shot Sam a smirk and got out of the car, his brother and Cas following close behind.</p>
<p>Sam was the one to knock on the door when they arrived, and after a moment, it opened, revealing a blonde woman with a smile already on her face.</p>
<p>“Sam, Dean, Castiel, good to see ya!” she said excitedly. “Jody-o, the boys are here!” she called back into the house. Right, so from Sam’s explanation, this was Donna. Jody said something back, but it was fairly muffled and clearly came from a different room.</p>
<p>“Good to see you too, Donna,” Sam smiled back genuinely. Donna reached up and gave him a tight hug, which he returned.</p>
<p>“Jody’s fixin’ things in the kitchen. You can head on in,” Donna said, allowing Sam and Cas to pass inside after she had greeted them. They hung in the entryway for a moment as Dean looked over Donna and she did the same.</p>
<p>“Hi, Donna,” Dean greeted, just a bit awkwardly, but it faded when she crushed him in a hug just the same as she had done Sam.</p>
<p>“Happy you’re back, Dean,” she said quietly as Dean hugged her back. When they released, she was still smiling, ear to ear, and Dean decided that a few days of reconnecting with the people he knew may not be so anxiety-inducing after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welcome back! I'm hoping that those of you that were looking for some familiar faces will be happy with this update ;) good news is I've got the next chapter ready to go, so it'll be posted Sunday! I love writing the wayward girls, so these next few chapters were a lot of fun for me, I hope they will be for you guys too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donna did eventually let Dean go, and he followed Sam and Cas inside while Donna shut the door. By the time they were in the main room, Jody was out of the kitchen, hands slightly damp, but a smile on her face.</p>
<p>“Like the hair,” Dean commented, which only made her smile grow. It was short and silver, compared to the long brown hair she’s had months, well, years ago. He didn’t know how long she’d had it like this, but it suited her.</p>
<p>“Ever the charmer,” she replied, making her way over to hug Dean first, maybe a bit tighter than she normally would, not that Dean would know. From what Sam and Cas had filled him in on, they were all close. She had threatened to use a mom voice on Sam, a story which he retold fondly, and that told Dean almost all he needed to know.</p>
<p>He chuckled lightly back when she pulled away and hugged Sam and Cas in succession, leaving them standing in the room.</p>
<p>“Alex is working the night at the hospital, she’ll be back for tomorrow,” Jody explained. “Claire’s in her room, probably with the music on, I’ll go bug her in a sec—“ Jody started, but trailed off when the girl in question walked into the room.</p>
<p>“I heard voices,” she explained, but when her eyes fell onto the three men, she too trailed off.</p>
<p>She was almost…ten years older than when Dean had seen her. A physical embodiment of all the time he was missing. It would definitely take some getting used to. But she had that same fire in her eyes that Dean had seen in her younger self. Claire was a full-fledged teenager now, that held herself highly, with the same blonde hair that her younger self had possessed, just more wavy. She came up to Dean almost carefully, then hugged him too, and made the rounds to Sam and a somewhat awkward one to Cas, but at least they were trying.</p>
<p>In a way, it was easier for Dean to keep looking at Donna, who he didn’t know and therefor had no one else to compare her to. But it would just take some getting used to, that was all, he just had to keep reminding himself.</p>
<p>“So,” Jody started again, breaking the happy silence that had fallen over the room, everyone pleased to again be under the same roof, this time in favorable circumstances, “the main stuff is for tomorrow, but we’ve got plenty of chicken and other things leftover from last night if that’s good with everyone?”</p>
<p>They all nodded in unison. “Sounds perfect,” Sam answered for them all. Jody seemed to accept that, and moved back into the kitchen. Claire turned around to talk to Cas, and Donna to Sam, so Dean found himself wandering into the kitchen behind Jody.</p>
<p>“Care to give me a hand?” Jody asked, seeing that he had followed and apparently being happy about that fact.</p>
<p>“Anything food related that I can be of service with, sure,” Dean replied and shot her a smile. She passed him a few bowls and plates of things to put into pans, which they then put into the oven. He told her a few things about cooking he had picked up on during his time working as head chef of a million different motel kitchenettes (and apparently implemented in the bunker’s kitchen to a much better degree, as Sam had happily told him), and if she had heard them before, she didn’t remark on it.</p>
<p>Every so often, her eyes would linger just a second longer on him while passing a tray off, and she’d smile to herself. The light conversation between the two of them was easy to keep up, avoiding touchy subjects, and it didn’t take long for Dean to see why she had become so close with them.</p>
<p>She was fiercely protective of the girls, even if they didn’t always appreciate it, and he could tell just by the few stories she told of them about how school was going, or about some idiot male nurse who had tried to tell Alex how to do her job. Without her even remarking on it, he knew that protectiveness probably also extended to he and Sam, given how much they had all been through together.</p>
<p>He got his solid answer when, conversations still going in the other room and after the last pan was put into the oven to reheat the leftovers, Jody leaned back against the counter and looked at him.</p>
<p>“I know this must all be…a whole nine yards of crazy and weird,” she started as Dean leaned up against the opposite end, “and you’ve probably heard this a few times already, but it’s good to have you back, Dean, really good.” There was a slight smile on her lips, not quite surpassing the emotion on her face, the worry that his whole family had probably felt when the plane had gone down.</p>
<p>“It’s good to get back to things again,” Dean nodded back, not knowing what else to say. “And thanks, you know, for checking up on Sam and everything,” he added, remembering how Sam had talked about calling up Jody for cases. While Sam hadn’t explicitly stated it, their conversations had probably gone beyond just case work a few times, and he was grateful that someone outside the bunker had been looking out for Sam too.</p>
<p>“You guys have your job, I have mine, no need for a thank you. But you’re welcome,” she said, her face softening and losing a bit of the worried emotion that had crossed it a moment ago. “Just don’t go pulling a stunt like that again in the near future,” she pointed at him, half serious, half mocking, which made Dean chuckle.</p>
<p>“Believe me,” he spread his hands in front of him, “I think I’m off planes unless the world will literally end if I don’t get on one.”</p>
<p>“You’ve got the car to get you around stateside, no frequent flier miles needed.”</p>
<p>“Exactly!”</p>
<p>“Then I think we’re probably covered,” Jody smirked at him. “Take it easy, make some burgers, plenty of vamps for the rest of us to decapitate before you get back to it.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded at that, but didn’t comment further. Jody eventually said that everything kitchen-wise was covered until it was ready to be served, and they moved back out into the main area where everyone else was.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“And I swear, it was the biggest deer I’ve ever laid eyes on! You go into the woods looking for a werewolf, not tryin’ to find some behemoth with giant antlers starin’ ya down,” Donna put her hands up on her head to imitate the antlers, which made everyone laugh.</p>
<p>They had eaten and were still at the table, mostly empty plates in front of them, telling old war stories of sorts. Of course, Donna’s exaggeration and tone of voice when telling many of the stories was a bit comical and had everyone smiling.</p>
<p>“I mean, I can hunt things of the spooky and normal variety, but it was a big buck! Scared me half to death and then trotted off on his merry way,” she said and shook her head, smiling to herself.</p>
<p>“At least yours was a big animal that you got scared of,” Sam brought up, raising his beer bottle to his mouth. He turned his head and met Dean’s eyes and immediately the older brother knew where Sam was going with it.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Dean said, and held up a finger, “that was the ghost sickness, remember? I’ve got a perfectly reasonable excuse and you know it.”</p>
<p>But it was too late to keep everyone from asking.</p>
<p>“Dean Winchester afraid of a fuzzy little creature? Do tell,” Claire pressed and leaned her elbows up against the table.</p>
<p>“Sammy, don’t you—“</p>
<p>“So we were in this abandoned wood chipping plant, right? Looking for a spirit,” Sam cut his brother off. Even Cas was intently listening. “And there was this noise from inside one of the lockers. So I went over, opened it on three, and this cat was inside. Literally just a cat. And Dean here, screamed to high hell. Mouth open, eyes wide, the whole nine. What was it you said?” he turned back to Dean.</p>
<p>“You know perfectly well what I said, Sam,” he muttered, but it was all in good fun.</p>
<p>“Come on, man,” Sam nudged him.</p>
<p>“That was scary,” Dean finally finished and shook his head. “But I’m not doing the voice!”</p>
<p>By that point, everyone at the table was laughing at the image of Dean screaming because of a cat, and Dean found himself laughing along with them. Sure, it had been freaky at the time, but it was a comical moment to look back on without the circumstances surrounding it. And there was the fact that it was a story Dean actually remembered, and could participate in the retelling of, something that he didn’t get to do nearly enough.</p>
<p>“Granted, he did have a supernatural sickness that made him afraid of everything, but still. If you’re ever wondering why we don’t have any cats in the bunker,” Sam spread his hands over the table, “that’s why.” Dean shook his head at that, which made them laugh even more.</p>
<p>Sam then told a story, which Dean was sorry to not remember, about killing clowns and getting completely covered in glitter. Donna remarked that it wasn’t the worst thing to come out of a hunt, and Sam agreed.</p>
<p>“I got covered in glitter and Dean got a rainbow slinky, so win win,” he said with a smile.</p>
<p>Dean paused at that, a rainbow slinky…”Is that where it came from?” Dean asked, and the table around him went silent.</p>
<p>“You’ve seen it?” Sam turned to him, apparently surprised.</p>
<p>Dean nodded back. “Yeah, it’s in the trunk in my room. I was super confused when I found it,” he explained it.</p>
<p>“I just didn’t know you kept it is all,” Sam said, apparently trying to think through a few things, which Dean wasn’t familiar with. The smile hadn’t faded, but he was definitely thinking.</p>
<p>“Well, apparently I did, because there’s a rainbow slinky in with the guns,” Dean shrugged.</p>
<p>“Is it useful in getting rid of ghosts?” Claire asked in mock seriousness, amused by the fact that Dean did indeed have a rainbow slinky.</p>
<p>“It still has yet to be field tested, but I will be sure to let you know when I do. You’ll get a full mission report,” Dean replied in the same serious tone</p>
<p>“Oh, and pictures too, if you could,” Donna chimed in and winked.</p>
<p>A minute later, the women got up to get the plates and Cas helped carry over some of the pans. The brothers cleaned up as much as they could help, but six people was too many in the small kitchen, and they found themselves back in the main room, beer bottles in their hands.</p>
<p>Sam was still quiet though. It wasn’t a bad quiet, like something was wrong, Dean could still recognize that from a mile away, but it was a contemplative quiet, one that had become more common in the past month.</p>
<p>“What’s on your mind, Sam?” Dean asked eventually when he was sure that the others were in the kitchen and would remain there for a few more minutes.</p>
<p>Sam just shrugged it off. “No big deal, nothing to worry about.”</p>
<p>“It’s the slinky thing, right? About how I kept it. Why’s that got your head spinning?” he pressed gently, half out of curiosity and half out of a need to know.</p>
<p>Sam took another drink from his bottle and looked back at Dean. Finally, with a sigh, he opened his mouth. “Because…I don’t know how you kept that thing. It was right after Bobby,” he shook his head, “and some stuff happened, and you left for about a year,” Sam shot Dean a glance that begged him to not ask further, this wasn’t the place, “and I had the Impala, and never noticed the toy anywhere. So maybe you stuck it in your duffel and then put it in the bunker later?”</p>
<p>Then it was Dean’s turn to shrug. “I wish I knew, man,” he said quietly. They’d talk about it later, when they got back home, unless he remembered something first. “But seriously? A rainbow slinky? Why did you get that for me of all things? No toy bow and arrows or anything?” Dean switched the topic back to the lighter side of the story and, to his relief, Sam smiled.</p>
<p>“You were eyeing that thing the second we walked past the counter,” Sam said with a breathy laugh. “It was the first time we’d laughed in a while, so the glitter and the slinky were worth it.”</p>
<p>“I’ll say. I don’t have a crate of barbie dolls stashed anywhere, do I?” he asked and smirked at his brother.</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. “Other than the one you stowed in the garage that you think I don’t know about,” Sam cut himself off to laugh when Dean looked at him in surprise with a ‘seriously?’ look written all over his face. “No, Dean, the brightly colored toy stash stops with the slinky.”</p>
<p>“Okay, good, the less toy surprises, the better,” Dean nodded.</p>
<p>“Sounds like you boys are havin’ fun in here. Retelling old slinky war stories?” Donna asked, having just come out of the kitchen with a smile on her face and Jody and Cas on her heels.</p>
<p>“Sam was just telling me about his barbie doll stash,” Dean relayed, obviously amused, and acted to be hurt when Sam elbowed him in the shoulder.</p>
<p>They left a little while after that, the drive having caught up with them. They ended up staying the night at a nearby decent motel. After the drive and the rest of the day, it didn’t take long for either brother to fall asleep, their guardian angel watching over them from his spot at the kitchenette table.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all are having a lovely weekend, thanks for tuning into this Christmas-in-late-April-extravaganza ;) This will continue on Thursday, so I hope you enjoy this festive break for the boys and some nice familiar faces. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>December 25</em>
</p>
<p>Around midday, Sam, Dean, and Cas headed back over to Jody’s house for Christmas. Even though Jody had insisted that they not bring over any food, a few pies made their way into the grocery bag when they stopped in the morning to pick up some supplies. A few more pies at Christmas couldn’t hurt, right? Dean, of course, was fine with that, and picked out the ‘best’ flavors. Cas was one to pick out honey for some reason in case Jody didn’t have any, which both brothers found to be amusing, and left the store with a small bag.</p>
<p>When they got there, a young woman with black hair, Alex, Dean guessed, opened the door and greeted them all with another round of hugs. She apologized for having not been there the day before, but as Jody mentioned, had been working the night shift at the hospital. She’d been lucky to get the holiday off at all, and they were all sure to tell her to not worry about it.</p>
<p>It was good, having the whole family in one area, even if Dean was still getting used to it all again. Jody, Claire, and Donna had set up some sparkly garland around the house, along with a few lights here and there. Everyone had tried to a degree to dress in festive colors, and Donna had found a green pointed hat with a bell on top from a previous year that she had brought with her and was wearing with pride.</p>
<p>“I would’ve gotten a tree, but I didn’t want to be <em>that</em> festive,” Jody joked lightly. The reality was that they normally weren’t all home at the same time enough to really enjoy a tree, but she ventured that maybe they’d get one (or at least a fake one) the following year.</p>
<p>Dean smiled a bit to himself, thinking of the few lone ‘trees’ they had over the years, one of the more recent for him being the tiny one with air fresheners Sam had set up. Of course, it had only been because Dean had been on his way to hell, but for the day Dean was deciding to overlook that fact and err on the side of happiness. Besides, it had smelled good and was colorful and festive, which basically ticked all of the boxes where they counted.</p>
<p>He vaguely wondered if they did many holidays in the bunker. He’d have to ask later. Because with those high ceilings, man, they could fit a giant tree in there. How they’d get it in or out he had no idea, but it would definitely look nice.</p>
<p>“Well, whatever you get, make sure it has an angel on top,” Dean said with a smirk and pointed to Cas, who looked back at him, puzzled.</p>
<p>“I doubt a tree would be able to withstand the weight of an angel in a vessel, Dean, and a crushed tree is not very festive,” he replied matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>“What about an angel minus the vessel?” Claire asked, apparently curious, but again Cas shook his head.</p>
<p>“Given the size of our true form and the temperature, it…wouldn’t be advisable.” His answers that everyone apparently should have been able to figure out beforehand were particularly amusing to Donna, who was smiling the whole time.</p>
<p>“Where did the angels sitting on trees staring at us come from then?” she proposed. “You don’t typically do that, do you? Sit in a forest, trench coat billowing in the breeze?” Donna waved her arms a bit and laughed, which garnered a smile out of Cas. If he hadn’t been able to before, he could now clearly see that they were joking around.</p>
<p>“Apparently the tradition came from the same place that the elves on shelves did. Humans like to be watched during the holidays,” Cas explained in a monotone voice, though his facial expressions showed that he too was joining in on the fun.</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, I never liked those things, but when you put it like that…” Donna trailed off, her voice going up ever so slightly in pitch before she laughed.</p>
<p>From across the room, Sam shook his head, amused at the exchange between the group. “Something about staring elves make you uneasy, Donna?”</p>
<p>“They’re always watching,” Claire reminded sarcastically, and widened her eyes ever so slightly.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, you betcha,” Donna nodded, making the bell on her hat ring, “jingle hats and striped socks and all.”</p>
<p>“Blank happy faces of pure evil,” Alex agreed, smiling along with them.</p>
<p>“Hey, dolls of any kind are a no, especially the super happy festive ones,” Dean added with a motion of his hand, Sam nodding along in agreement. That case years ago in the old hotel with all the dolls…it was still a big no.</p>
<p>The whole group found it a bit amusing that they could all face monsters of pretty much any kind, but fake dolls were still creepy. From there, they launched into a few stories, with Dean and Cas sitting back to mainly listen as Sam and the women talked and recalled tales. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that they tended to stick to lighter hunts, if there were such a thing, but ones that didn’t have a high body count or level of danger to the hunters involved.</p>
<p>One story Sam told, from years ago, that Dean didn’t remember, involved them on a ‘hunt’ in an alternate universe where they were supposed to be ‘actors’. The whole thing made Dean’s head hurt, but Sam told it fondly, and Cas seemed to enjoy hearing the other side of the story. Whether he’d heard it or not, Dean didn’t know, but the angel was more involved than with some of the other stories.</p>
<p>Donna mentioned a set of cursed stage outfits and a bloodied bunny mask that they just could not get off of the guy. Next to dolls, scary masks were her least favorite.</p>
<p>Alex filled the boys in on a few things that had been going on at the hospital, since she had taken a step back from hunting and only helped when it was necessary. But that definitely didn’t mean that she didn’t have any stories. Some were just stupid things people had gotten themselves into, others were heroic deeds people had done for others and unfortunately gotten hurt in the process.</p>
<p>By the time many of their stories were exhausted, the oven was beeping in the other room, and everyone spread out to help with dinner. Dean took to setting up the table settings while Sam went into the kitchen. While Dean was putting the plates into place, he noticed that Claire had pulled Cas off to the side. Dean didn’t mean to pry or anything, they seemed to have been getting along well, but he was still curious.</p>
<p>“Just…if you ever want to change it up, you can have options,” he heard Claire say. She smiled slightly as she passed over a little box, which Cas opened. Dean couldn’t see what was in the box from his place by the table, but Cas nodded at it and seemed to be appreciative.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Claire.” Dean couldn’t see the angel’s face either, but he imagined he was smiling too. He then reached into his own pocket and pulled out something small, a knife of some sort maybe? “You probably have a few, but just in case you want to ‘change it up’,” he repeated, which made Claire chuckle. She took the offered gift with a quiet ‘thanks’.</p>
<p>Dean hadn’t known angels to exchange gifts, but then again, how many of them were ever around the children of their human vessels? How many even cared that the vessels had children? And here Cas was, trying to make a relationship with Claire, and she had extended an olive branch back. It made Dean happy to see, especially considering how their relationship had left off from where Dean last remembered.</p>
<p>“Coming in hot, everyone watch yourselves!” Donna warned comically, and Dean got out of the way as she came to the table, putting down the ham on one of the hot pads that Dean had set up, everything else already in place. Sam, Jody, and Alex were close behind with the rest, and pretty soon they were all seated and helping themselves.</p>
<p>“Hopefully everything’s alright, we don’t normally do this much,” Jody mentioned as they all started eating, but everyone pretty much in unison shook their heads.</p>
<p>“As long as you didn’t Lampoon us, we’re good,” Dean assured with a grin.</p>
<p>Sam happily rolled his eyes at his brother’s references. “Seriously, Jody, thank you.” It was echoed with a chorus of thank you’s and ‘Merry Christmas’s.</p>
<p>A few minutes after the conversation had died down, Cas brought up, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with Lampoon, I assume it’s a reference of some sort?” he asked, and looked quizzically at the rest of the table.</p>
<p>Dean shot him a quick finger gun with his free hand and smirked in affirmation. “Bingo.”</p>
<p>“It’s a movie. Basically the Lampoons, this whole family, as in everyone, gets together at the main character’s house for the holidays and things get a bit nuts. They overcook the turkey just a little,” Claire did her best to clarify with an amused smile on her face.</p>
<p>Cas nodded at that, seemingly pleased that he had at least gotten that it was a reference.</p>
<p>“It’s a little more than just a little,” Alex brought up. “As in the whole thing disintegrates it’s so dry. So no, Jody did the opposite of Lampooning us,” she smiled at the older woman, who happily took the compliment.</p>
<p>“Oh, my favorite part was when he gets on the sled, ya know, and it launches down the hill at supersonic speeds,” Donna interjected, wine glass in her hand.</p>
<p>“Anything having to do with the cat was pretty hilarious,” Sam said, to which Dean agreed.</p>
<p>“So this…comedic family film about dried turkey, a fast sled, and a feline is a classic I am assuming?” Cas asked, just to make sure he was following.</p>
<p>Jody nodded, as did everyone else. “It’s probably on sometime today, we’ll see if we can catch it.” There was a chorus of agreement from the room, and lo and behold, two and a half hours later, they were all seated on and around the couch and chairs in the main room, watching the aforementioned film. It was one of the best holidays the Winchesters had ever had.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Around six, Donna announced that she should probably be getting back to Stillwater. It took a few hours to make the drive back, and she didn’t want to be out too late before dealing with ‘crazies’ the next day. “Criminals don’t take the day after Christmas off, don’t ya know?” she joked as she got her jacket on. “Gotta make sure the station hasn’t burned down.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Doug has everything covered,” Sam shot her a smirk and returned her offered hug.</p>
<p>“If not, I know who to call.”</p>
<p>“Ghostbusters,” Dean joked back, and hugged her as well, finding the embrace to be just as tight as it had been the day before.</p>
<p>Donna continued around the room in a similar fashion, stopping by Claire for a moment to remind her, face to face, to call if she ever needed help on a hunt. Right, Claire was off by herself hunting, and Dean was still on the sidelines.</p>
<p>He pushed that thought aside, not about to let it ruin the mood of the last few days. He shoved it into a back corner of his mind, hoping to forget about it, but he knew that in that back corner, that was where ideas grew and festered into things he had to act on. This would be different, it had to be.</p>
<p>Donna beeped the horn of her ‘D-Train’ truck as she left, Jody waving at her from the porch of the house before she closed the door again.</p>
<p>They spent the next few hours together, Jody having pulled out the pies they had brought. Dean was more than happy to partake in eating than talking, and after they had all finished, Jody pulled out a few decks of cards. Together, they taught Cas how to play Solitare, one on one at first, but around nine, they decided to play with all six of them. Needless to say, a few hands were thrown in the way of each other, Claire and Alex looked smug when they beat each other out to get a card on a pile, and Jody reminded the boys to keep their hands to their own decks of cards. Claire won the first round, and of course Alex demanded a rematch, which Jody won “just because she was lucky” as Dean put it.</p>
<p>Both brothers were just a bit glad that they wouldn’t have to listen to the other gloat for the whole car ride back, though.</p>
<p>Around ten, they too headed out. More hugs were given, and Sam and Dean found themselves making similar promises to Jody that Claire had made to Donna. Yes, they’d call to check in and if they needed anything, of course they would. Cas promised to look out for them, as always, and with that, they headed out, Dean stealing one more glance at the house as he pulled away from the curb.</p>
<p>They rode the wave of happiness all the way to the motel, where they then fell asleep watching more holiday movie reruns.</p>
<p>In the morning, Cas asked them about the significance of a reindeer having a red nose and if it was truly important to the holiday itself, and after some explaining, he headed out to get coffee and donuts for the ride back, giving the brothers some time to pack up their things. They’d slept in, which wasn’t a problem, but Dean was hoping they wouldn’t get caught in any post holiday traffic, since they had at least a six hour trip back to the bunker.</p>
<p>Not that Dean was eager to leave, he just wanted to get back to what was familiar to sort through everything. As he was packing up his duffel, Sam seemed to catch on, as he always did, and the rustling in his bag slowed.</p>
<p>“Everything alright?” he asked, trying to be casual. Even though his back was turned to Sam, Dean could tell that he was looking at him, honestly trying to make sure he was okay. They hadn’t done any real ‘check-ins’ while at Jody’s, and now that they had some space, Dean had known it was coming sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>“Good,” Dean eventually nodded, and turned around after he had zipped up his bag. Sam raised an eyebrow at that and Dean sighed, figuring he should probably elaborate. “I mean, it’s a lot to go through, but it was good to see them, get some wheels on the bus and get things moving. Just…a lot to sort through,” he left it at that.</p>
<p>“To be expected,” Sam replied, seeming to accept the answer, which Dean was grateful for. “But you’ll tell me if anything changes?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I will be telling you and calling Jody and Donna as promised if anything changes,” Dean said, slightly joking, and smiled a bit at his brother, who rolled his eyes and smiled back. “Seriously, Sam, all good.” With that and a hand motion, he was out the door and putting his bag into the Impala.</p>
<p>Cas got back a few minutes later with the promised coffees and donuts, the latter of which Dean was extremely pleased about, and they hit the road.</p>
<p>It crossed Dean’s mind for a split second right before they left Sioux Falls to go check out Bobby’s place. But he squashed that thought as quickly as he had any others that had threatened to tamper with his good memory of the past few days.</p>
<p>As Sam had told him, there was nothing left but burnt remnants of what used to be a home of sorts for them, and some abandoned, rusting cars. There wasn’t much to go back to, and Sam and Cas hadn’t said anything, so Dean tried to not think about it further. Maybe it was best he didn’t see what had happened to Bobby’s place without the context surrounding the event. Probably best to leave that one untouched.</p>
<p>Twenty miles outside the city, the donut was gone and AC/DC was blaring from the speakers, though not at a volume that Sam wouldn’t appreciate. It helped fill the silence in the car as they watched the miles pass by.</p>
<p>All things considered, it had been a good few days, and Dean was keen on keeping it that way, at least until the new year rolled around.</p>
<p>Of course, even with his missing memories, he should have known that good things never lasted.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all liked the holiday break! It was great to write all of them having a nice time, especially since we don't see holidays in the show very often. Thanks for reading and I'll see you next Thursday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dean woke up slowly, only vaguely registering that it wasn’t yet light outside. The clock on the bedside table said that it was just past two in the morning, and Dean had to wonder why he was up in the first place. A quick check showed that the holy water and shotgun were still under the bed, the other side of which was cold. That wasn’t odd precisely, sometimes Lisa fell asleep downstairs while watching one of her television shows. Sometimes Dean tried to fall asleep down there when the nightmares got too bad. Normally they were together, but this wasn’t any cause for concern.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The house was safe. He’d put up all the wards he could think of, and salted the perimeter each night, and had done so for the past few months. Lisa was downstairs, Ben was in his room, and Dean needed to get his head to shut up. Ben had baseball practice in the morning, and Dean had promised to take him. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he showed up more sleep-deprived than usual.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean rolled over, still pretty much half asleep, and sighed, his bleary gaze focused on the cracked open door.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Cracked open…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That had Dean immediately pausing to open his eyes further. Whenever Lisa slept downstairs, he always left the door completely open, always. They didn’t just mostly shut by themselves, and he’d gotten into a routine enough to where he never almost shut it. Never.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He slowly got up out of the bed, bare feet sticking ever so slightly to the floor of the bedroom as he reached over to grab his handgun from the nightstand, which would probably be more effective in any given encounter he was about to face. Dean picked up the flashlight next to it and held it in his other hand, ready to turn it on at a moment’s notice, but not unless he had to, for fear of waking Ben up for no reason. He crept out of bed, the floorboards not even creaking as he made his way towards the door and nudged it open.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A quick glance down both sides of the hallway showed nothing out of the ordinary, just a dark, safe, quiet house and the paranoid hunter that had just started calling it a home. He took a few slow steps into the hallway towards Ben’s room, gun and flashlight on opposite sides of his body. That’s all he was, paranoid. Every little creak reminded him of a monster coming to get him, and every shift in the windows made him imagine a hand dragging itself along the glass panes, wanting to be let in.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He silently nudged open Ben’s door when he got to it, and after a few seconds of observing the sleeping kid’s form, he nodded to himself and drew the door back so it was almost closed, not wanting to disturb him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The stairs squeaked ever so slightly as he descended, still on alert, but beginning to realize that he was just playing games with himself. They were safe here, all of them. Lisa and Ben were safe because he was there, and he was more or less safe because he had them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> When he got down to the bottom, the changing glow of colors on the television screen bounced off the far wall, confirming Dean’s suspicion that Lisa had fallen asleep while watching a show. It was so ordinary, so normal, so mundane, and he chided himself for having thought differently.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He left the flashlight on the kitchen counter, since the television gave him more than enough light to see by, and made his way into the next room to carry Lisa to bed. Maybe she’d sleepily protest, or stay fast asleep, or mutter about him being a strong hero, Dean had gotten all different reactions before, and he smiled a bit at trying to imagine which one he’d get this time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean rounded the corner of the couch, about to bend down to scoop her up, when his foot came into contact with something slippery that coated the floor. Surely, she’d just spilled a drink, maybe when she fell asleep.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> But in his chest, he knew that wasn’t it, and his heart began pounding.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He slowly looked down, and in the mostly blue emanating light, the liquid on the floor looked almost black. Dean immediately backed up, knocking his hip against the table as he did so, but he didn’t even feel it. He scrambled for the light switch, and when the room finally got too bright, his mouth opened in horror.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lisa was on the couch, eyes open and transfixed on the television, her mouth open in a silent scream. Blood from a gash across her throat had coated her blue sleep shirt and was lazily dripping under the couch.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “No, no, no, no, no,” Dean whispered under his breath. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be, they were safe. And even though he knew a person couldn’t survive with that much blood outside their body, he still walked back over with shaky steps and knelt down next to the couch, blood soaking into his sweatpants.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Lis—“ he started, begging for some sort of life, a breath, a twitch, anything, something. His hand, extremely carefully, came to rest on her cheek, which was cold beneath his fingers. There was no ounce of warmth to be had, which meant she had been dead a while, in the same house as him, and he hadn’t noticed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His view of the horrific scene in front of him clouded as tears crossed his vision and he rubbed a thumb softly over her cheek. “Come on,” he pleaded, as if she could hear him. But her brown eyes didn’t close, she didn’t smile into his touch, and she didn’t wrap her arms around his neck so he could pick her up easier. She didn’t move or breathe or laugh or question why he was suddenly crying. She didn’t do any of it because she was dead, and had been for a while, and Dean hadn’t done anything about it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, staring at her, but eventually he wiped a hand across his eyes and stood up, gun in hand, and ran back towards the stairs. His feet left bloody marks as he ran up, taking them two at a time, before he reached Ben’s room and turned on the light before he did anything else.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Ben,” he said desperately, and waited for Ben to question why the hell he had thrown on the lights at two in the freaking morning. Gradually, his gun came to rest by his thigh, shaking as tremors worked their way down to his hands.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean spotted the red that had soaked through the white bedsheets, which had been hidden in the darkness before, and he was out in the hallway at the next second. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside any further to see what he knew awaited him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His knees gave out in the next moment, and deposited him on the floor, leaning up against the wall outside the room where his family had been killed and he hadn’t known about it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The gun clattered to the floor, shattering the silence that was slowly being filled up with his own desperate gasps for air. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening. He brought a hand up to run it through his hair, down his face, anything that could serve to wake him up, but stopped when he noticed the blood on it. Lisa’s blood. He’d never be able to get it clean. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, it shouldn’t have—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You’re right, Dean.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Lisa’s voice came suddenly, breaking up his harsh breathing. His head immediately turned upwards, finding her standing there in her bloodied shirt, but a grotesque wound missing from her neck.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “None of this should have happened. But you came back, and you dragged us into this mess with you.” Her tone was accusatory and angry, but Dean still found himself unable to look away.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You had an angel wipe our minds and you left, Dean, you left both of us because you thought it would be safer. Does this look safer?” She gestured to her clothing, and Dean visibly winced.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Maybe you could have done something if you were here. Or maybe we would have died anyways because you went soft while taking a break from saving lives. You don’t get a break with this life, Dean, and you know it, and now a child has paid the price.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Stop,” Dean bit out through gritted teeth. “Whatever this is, stop, please.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “A demon waltzed in here and slit out throats. It’s over, and you didn’t notice. Not much to stop.” Lisa tilted her head, as if it should have been obvious.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Salt and and and the…sigils…the protections…they can’t get in here,” Dean tried to reason, another tear cascading down his cheek. This couldn’t be real.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Oh, but it is, Dean. You stop hunting and people die, it’s as simple as that,” she answered his unspoken question. “You didn’t protect us, and this, this is the outcome. You can save the world but not your own family? What kind of sense does that make?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And that was the point, it didn’t make any sense. None of it did. But she was there, in front of him, staring him down with her dead kid in the next room and…Dean couldn’t take it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a broken tone. It bounced off the hallway and rang in his ears as he wiped at his eyes again and shook his head. “Lisa…this wasn’t meant to happen, I’m so sorry.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Yeah, a lot of good that does us.” It was cold and unfeeling and shut him out completely. And then, she was just…gone, a small pool of blood left where she had been standing.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Dean was left alone, head in his hands, in the place that should have been a home, but without the people in it, was nothing more than an empty, heartless structure.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dean was unsurprised to find that when he actually came around, the pillow beneath his face was wet. The clock read three in the morning instead of two, but that didn’t do anything to ease the feeling of waking again. He turned on the light the second he made it to the bathroom, not even wincing at the sudden brightness.</p>
<p>It wasn’t real, none of it was real. Lisa and Ben were alive and safe, Sam had told him so. It was just the exhaustion of the last few days finally settling in and messing with his head. He had overdone it, that was all, that was all.</p>
<p>He kept repeating it to himself as he washed his face off with water, and his hands for good measure, though there was no blood present to stain the sink pink. When he toweled off his face and looked in the mirror, for a split second he could have sworn he saw Lisa behind him, watching him, wondering why he hadn’t done more.</p>
<p>He washed his face again, and then she was gone.</p>
<p>Dean’s steps back into his room were shaky at best, and he knew within a minute that he couldn’t stay there. The nightmare and the brutal, vivid reality of it hung in the air like a physical darkness he couldn’t escape, and there was no way in hell he was getting back to sleep.</p>
<p>
  <em>You stop hunting and people die, it’s as simple as that.</em>
</p>
<p>It rang over and over and over in his ears in a tone that Dean knew Lisa had never used, but that didn’t help anything. He ran a hand over his face and tried to think of where he could go. Cas was always up, either in the library or in his room, so those spots were out. The garage was too far and there was a chance of running into Cas in the halls.</p>
<p>It took a minute, but eventually he got an idea in mind, and silently left the room. Out in the hallway, he looked left and saw Lisa watching him, and right, and watched Ben disappear around a corner.</p>
<p>He checked Sam’s room, and even took a step inside to make sure his little brother was actually breathing and that the sheets were still white before he left. His family was still alive, they were fine, and with that, he left and headed down another long hallway towards the more secluded area of the bunker, where no one would be able to hear him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sam had a seventh sense beyond his previous psychic abilities, and that was the ability to feel when someone had their eyes on him. It came in handy when hunting, and more often than not, made him uneasy when he was eating a bowl of cereal when no one else was present. There were definite pros and cons to having been looking over his shoulder all his life. Sam couldn’t decide if it was a pro or con that he had slightly woken up when he felt eyes on him. He was on his side facing the door, arm beneath his head and pillow. Through barely cracked open eyes, he noticed Dean’s silhouette standing in the doorway. He even took a step forward and then paused before he headed out and shut the door a little bit more behind him.</p>
<p>Sam glanced towards the clock, which was just barely past three in the morning. What the hell Dean was doing up checking on him that early in the morning, Sam had no idea, but he could guess it wasn’t good.</p>
<p>Was there any way it could wait until morning?</p>
<p>Sam shifted and tried to close his eyes to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, however, he noticed almost silent, muffled pangs at regular intervals that echoed down the bunker’s long cement hallways. Sam was all too familiar with the sound, and it definitely meant that whatever reason Dean had been checking up on him wasn’t a good one.</p>
<p>But Sam also knew from experience that when Dean got like this, he needed space to think things through. Sam wasn’t about to intrude on that space, but after twenty minutes and continued slowing pangs, Sam rubbed a hand over his face and swung his legs out of bed. They would both definitely be tired come actual morning, but it wasn’t like they had any plans.</p>
<p>He didn’t run into Cas in the hallways, so the angel was probably in the library or in his own room, and Sam continued down to the lower levels of the bunker where the especially old archives were stored.</p>
<p>He stopped at the door that lead to the shooting range, affirming his memory of what shots sounded like when they echoed through the bunker. Sam waited for the shots to pass, and a few seconds of silence, which meant Dean had taken a break or was reloading, until he slowly opened the door.</p>
<p>Dean was standing in the shooting area closest to the far end of the wall, clad in sweatpants and a black sleeping t-shirt. It looked normal, and Sam didn’t notice anything immediately amiss until he took a few steps closer and noticed the red around Dean’s eyes. It stood out from his pale face and as Sam looked down, his brother’s hands were shaking almost imperceptibly as he paused at loading the next magazine.</p>
<p>When he finally turned and lifted his eyes to Sam, placing the gun on the counter in front of him, Sam could tell his brother wouldn’t be getting any more sleep during the night.</p>
<p>“Bit early for a run, isn’t it?” Dean asked, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he was trying too hard to have a normal conversation.</p>
<p>“Could say the same to you and your target practice,” Sam replied, continuing with the fake amount of normality as he made his way over.</p>
<p>“Shots didn’t wake you up, did they?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. “Got up to get some water, noticed your door was more open than usual, figured I’d find out where you wandered off to,” he explained easily. Because of course he hadn’t woken up to the fact that Dean had been checking on him at three in the morning, and judging by his state, was probably due to the fact that something in his head hadn’t been letting him sleep.</p>
<p>Dean seemed to take that as an answer, but Sam couldn’t pinpoint if he believed it or not. Probably not. “Go on back to bed, Sam, I’m finishing up,” he tried to brush off.</p>
<p>But with Dean looking the way he did, Sam wasn’t about to let him do so. “I’m up anyways,” he said with a nonchalant shrug before he leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest. He regarded Dean with a slight tilt of his head, the ‘<em>you gonna drop the charade?’ </em>unsaid but understood by both of them.</p>
<p>Dean held his gaze for a moment longer before he dropped it, clipped another magazine in, and fired it off. The sound was fairly deafening, but nothing Sam wasn’t used to, and he again waited until the clip was empty before he tried anything. Looking at the paper target, Dean’s usually expert marksmanship was off by a few centimeters here or there, which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but to an experienced shooter like Dean, it said a lot about his shaking hands.</p>
<p>“Dean,” he started in a low tone.</p>
<p>Dean just unclipped the magazine and fiddled around with a few bullets. “Nothing to talk about, Sam,” came Dean’s gruff reply.</p>
<p>“Nothing to…? Dean, your face is a dead give away, let alone your shooting escapades before the sun’s even up,” Sam said back.</p>
<p>Dean looked up, face hardening ever so slightly. “So I shoot instead of read lore books when I can’t sleep, sue me, not everyone’s an expert in quiet activities.” He hadn’t yet started reloading the gun.</p>
<p>“Any reason you want to clear up?” Sam eventually prompted, and the question hung in the air around them. Again, the weight of the situation sat like a bullet on the counter that Dean hadn’t yet put into the gun, waiting to be fired at Sam along with more painful memories for him to go through in explaining the situation.</p>
<p>Dean took his time in replying, and when he did, it wasn’t in a way Sam appreciated. “Yeah, sometimes my head doesn’t shut up, and it makes it hard to go to sleep. Things everyday people deal with, no need to make a big thing out of it.”</p>
<p>“Dean, it’s obviously more than a normal, everyday thing and that’s alright it’s—“</p>
<p>“Drop it, Sam.” It came with a note of warning and Dean shook his head.</p>
<p>“We’ve been over this, it’s better to not keep these kinds of things to yourself,” Sam tried because they had been over it many, many times, and he had hoped that they were making headway, but Dean kept shaking his head.</p>
<p>“It’s the same old thing, alright? Nothing new to see here, no new horror flicks playing on the unseen memory reel, it’s fine.” Dean checked to make sure the gun was in fact unloaded before he pulled out the magazine and refilled it with a bit more force than was necessary, but didn’t put it back into the gun. Instead, he set both on the counter in front of him and stared at the target down the long cement hall.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t have to be something new, if something’s bugging you and I can help you get it off your chest, or if Cas would help,” Sam said and eyed him carefully.</p>
<p>“You can’t, alright?” Dean looked back at him, eyes a twinge less red but no less haunted. “It’s a nightmare, everyone gets ‘em, they’re not real, no use in beating a dead horse to find some meaning in them. It happened, I woke up, I shot some targets, I’m fine.” He made a hand motion as if physically moving the nightmare out of the air and away from himself.</p>
<p>Sam, of course, could see right through it, and Dean probably knew it, but he was still rebuilding the wall around himself, for what purpose Sam had no idea.</p>
<p>“Maybe I can and neither of us will know unless you clue me in,” he tried again, but Dean was still shaking his head.</p>
<p>“I’m not putting this on you, Sam, there’s no point to it. It’s not serious, it’s fine, end of story.” He picked up the gun and magazine separately and began walking towards Sam, who moved a step away from the counter, blocking Dean’s approach in the slightest. Just when he had thought they were making some headway…”If it gets bad I’ll come to your room with kleenex and chocolate, alright? But some stuff belongs here and nowhere else.” Dean tapped his head, having stopped walking as he kept looking at Sam.</p>
<p>Dean’s tone of voice had changed, he wasn’t about to talk this through any more, and if Sam kept pressing, he was likely to have Dean deny it further and be less willing to talk it through in the future. He clenched his jaw, but took a step back and Dean continued out of the range. Sam expected him to go all the way to the door and disappear down the hall, but he paused as he was going up the few steps.</p>
<p>His fingers drummed against the gun once, and without turning around, he asked quietly, the flare of annoyance completely missing from his voice, “Lisa and Ben, you’re sure they’re alright?”</p>
<p>Sam nodded even though his brother couldn’t see him. “Checked in remotely as soon as you got back to the bunker. They’re in the same place, come and go, it’s all normal.”</p>
<p>Dean seemed to take a second to process that before he continued up the stairs and into the hall, his footsteps not making a sound as they did so.</p>
<p>Sam let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding in waiting for his brother’s answer. If it was this bad and Dean was reverting back to his normal tactics, it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Maybe come morning his ideas would change? Probably not.</p>
<p>But he was asking about Lisa and Ben, and given the look in his eyes, Sam knew it was a very high level of bad his brother was shouldering alone. The only thing Sam could remotely hope for was that it didn’t get any worse.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun dun dunnnnn. Back to our regularly scheduled angst programming haha. This chapter kicks off the last third or so of the story, I hope you guys enjoyed! The comments to the last chapter were so wonderful, I'm so glad so many of you liked the holiday mischief with the Wayward girls, it was a lot of fun to write :) Thanks so much for reading and I'll see you next Thursday!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean should have expected Sam to come find him, but the thought hadn’t been on his mind about how to deal with his little brother if (when) he decided to show up. He didn’t want to talk it through, and although it probably would have been helpful, he couldn’t, not when it was still so fresh in his mind. He had been shooting, as if every bullet coming out of the gun was killing another monster he hadn’t stopped while he’d been benched. In some strange world, it was therapeutic, and in another one, it was maddening.</p>
<p>He wasn’t surprised to find himself reverting back to his old habits, keeping his nightmares under lock and key for both his and Sam’s sakes. If it got bad, he’d tell Sam, he knew better, but for the time being that particular dream was his and his alone.</p>
<p>Dean stopped into his room to deposit the weapon, grab his laptop, and nothing more. It was almost four by the time he made his way into the library with his computer in hand, finding Cas sitting at one of the tables as he had expected. The angel was combing through one of the many lore books and only turned his head up when Dean climbed up the few stairs into the library itself.</p>
<p>“Dean,” Cas greeted, but it quickly turned into a puzzled question. “I thought I heard voices, you and Sam, it’s very early, is everything alright?”</p>
<p>Dean waved it off, which his friend apparently didn’t appreciate. “Nothing we haven’t dealt with before, Cas.” When that didn’t seem to do the trick, he added, “I promised Sam if it gets bad we’ll have a kleenex moment over it, but it’s all good.”</p>
<p>He sat at the same table across from Cas and put his laptop down on it, not yet opening it.</p>
<p>“So good that you are unable to sleep? From my knowledge, that does not fit the general definition of good.”</p>
<p>“Cas—“</p>
<p>“I could,” Cas motioned in the air with two fingers pressed together, a gesture Dean recognized well as being one that an angel used to knock some poor sap (more often than not, he and Sam) unconscious. While it was appealing for about a split second, he shook his head. Being able to wake up from a nightmare was one thing. If Cas knocked him out, he didn’t want to get stuck in one and have it repeat and not let him go.</p>
<p>“Save your mojo, Cas, seriously, I’m fine.”</p>
<p>Cas was still looking at him though, not buying it by the unimpressed look on his face.</p>
<p>“Hey, I uh, never asked, how’d things go with Claire?” he brought up for a change in subject. It was true, they’d never talked it through after the drive, but things seemed to have gone well.</p>
<p>Cas looked at him for a moment longer but eventually the angel nodded. “I believe things are going well, or, as well as can be expected for the relationship between a teenage girl and a celestial being inhabiting her father.”</p>
<p>“Well when you put it like that,” Dean muttered.</p>
<p>“Things are going in, as you say, in the right direction,” Cas restated. There was a on expression on his face that Dean wasn’t used to seeing. If he had to put a name to it, it would be something along the lines of fondness or content. “She got me a tie for Christmas, which I believe to be a good sign.”</p>
<p>So that was what had been in the box. Dean smiled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like as good a sign as any,” he said. “It’s good things have started working out. Happy to hear it.” And he meant it. He wasn’t sure how much work had gone into getting their relationship to this point, but he imagined it must have taken a few serious events and more talking on the side at least.</p>
<p>“As am I,” Cas replied, his face not losing the fond look. Their little conversation faded back into silence and Cas eventually turned back to the book, which allowed Dean to open up the laptop. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but after some random web searching, he found himself on one of the local news websites for a town nearby.</p>
<p>And of course, the article with the weird headline and picture of a house that had been burned to ash caught his attention. He clicked on the article without a second thought and read it through once, then twice. That was all it took for him to decide that it was one of their things. And it was close by…maybe, maybe it could work.</p>
<p>Dean checked the time again, just past five, and Cas hadn’t moved save for flipping a few pages. Sam hadn’t made a reappearance since their talk earlier either. Dean figured it was as good a time as any to get some background on what could become a case, or at least one they could send to another hunter with all the research already collected.</p>
<p>Before long, he found himself reading various reports on multiple arson cases, a woman’s burned remains, and some cops that had all received their share of third degree burns from seemingly mundane tasks. Not all of them had survived either. It wasn’t hard to line up the dots, even after what felt like a long time for Dean, it had felt like months after all, and pretty soon he had all the information they’d need. It would probably be easier to convince Sam and Cas with all this in his back pocket anyways.</p>
<p>He checked the time again on the laptop, finding it to be almost seven. He then minimized all the windows and shut the computer before he got up and began making his way into the kitchen, intent on getting himself a cup of coffee.</p>
<p>Sam was already inside, which wouldn’t be awkward at all, sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal. He stopped Dean from moving over to the coffee maker before he got any closer. “Ran out right before we left for Jody and Donna’s, didn’t have time to pick up more,” he explained shortly, which made Dean grumble in response.</p>
<p>No sleep, no coffee, and some convincing to do later? Oh yeah, that would go great. “I’ll go on a quick run. You want any fancy muffins or anything?” Dean offered as an olive branch, but Sam just shook his head.</p>
<p>“You sure you’re fine to drive?”</p>
<p>Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, I’ve driven further on less sleep, let it go.”</p>
<p>Sam let out a sigh and jerked his hand back towards the counter. Apparently a few foodstuff necessities were more important than getting into another argument with his brother. “Got a list of stuff to pick up for whenever we went.” Dean grabbed it, scanned it over once, and checked their pantry for whatever else they may need.</p>
<p>He nodded to himself and tapped the piece of paper on the table. “I’ll be back.” Sam didn’t give much of a reply, and Dean found himself on his way back to his room to change. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be strange at all. Hopefully sooner or later Sam would get where Dean was coming from. He stopped that train of thought before it could get much further and tried to think of something decent he could try to cook up.</p>
<p>Cas refused his offer for fancy muffins as well, but not before asking what a ‘fancy’ muffin would entail, and then Dean was off. They’d driven past the store numerous times on their way to and from the bunker, so he was perfectly capable of getting there by himself, and was just a bit happy that Sam hadn’t put up more of an argument to his doing so. Finding the stuff in the store in a timely fashion would probably take longer than usual, but hey, you had to start somewhere.</p>
<p>Shopping wasn’t exactly awful, per say, it just took freaking forever. He picked up stuff for burgers and then had to go down literally every single aisle looking for other things. It was almost like the store was set up that way. Dean made what he thought was efficient work of the trip, and after all, it was nice to have some space to clear his head by himself for just a bit.</p>
<p>He declined the cashier’s numerous offers to sign up for a membership card (he was pretty sure he and Sam didn’t have one, nor did they probably want them) and just over an hour later he was stuffing grocery bags into the Impala’s trunk on top of the fake floor above the guns, knives, and monster killing devices. He was just an average joe grabbing groceries in his awesome car, nothing to see here.</p>
<p>The drive back to the bunker took a solid ten minutes, and he wasn’t rushing anything. Hell, Dean even turned on the radio. They’d listened to a ton of tapes on the way to and from Sioux Falls, and he fiddled with the nobs for a moment before he found an actual news station. For ten minutes, he could not listen to rock music. Maybe he’d even learn a neat fact he could quiz Sam on later. Or maybe there would be a report on what he’d been reading about on the computer…</p>
<p>The station he settled on was in the middle of a story, and as Dean slowed the Impala to a stop at the red light, he turned the volume up.</p>
<p>“-coming up from the water, which again, has been the reason why this endeavor has taken almost a month to come to fruition. With sea temperatures only being around forty-five degrees Fahrenheit in December off the coast of New York, the Coast Guard has had a hard time getting teams to survey the area for the wreckage, which we can confirm, has been found and some pieces are being lifted up as of this morning.”</p>
<p>Dean’s focus on the road ahead of him blurred. Surely it was just some cruel twist of fate that this one station was running that specific story, right? He hurriedly changed it over to another news station, hopefully one that would be blabbing about some celebrity nonsense.</p>
<p>“The flight 523 crash, the largest in recent memory, is having its story draw to a close. The legacy it leaves behind is sure to—“</p>
<p>“The horrific event that captured the nation as households waited to hear for news of survivors from numerous countries—“</p>
<p>“—an event that has been attributed to bad weather on that fateful November night.”</p>
<p>It was everywhere. Each local news station Dean had gotten familiar with was running the same story as the wreckage of the plane, <em>his plane, </em>was being surveyed for the first time since it had gone down. No doubt it was a big story, but he didn’t know if he wanted to be hearing it.</p>
<p>Dean didn’t know if it was curiosity or an inability to move aside from his fingers gripping the steering wheel and his feet working the pedals that kept him from changing the station.</p>
<p>“The flight, which made headlines after crashing off the coast of New York just half an hour into its journey while carrying four hundred and two passengers, is garnering new media attention. In the latest reports, there were two hundred and twenty-seven survivors, some of which are still receiving emergency care, one hundred and thirty-nine victims, and still thirty-six passengers that have remained unaccounted for. Efforts are being made with teams and cameras to secure the wreckage, and we’ll keep you updated as this is a developing story.”</p>
<p>The station then launched into its section of ads, which was when Dean realized that he had, in fact, driven back to the bunker and parked the car in the garage while listening. He slowly turned down the volume and shut off the Impala, but didn’t make a move to get out. Not yet.</p>
<p>How many had they said? A hundred and thirty-nine people dead? And it was by some slim margin that Dean himself hadn’t been one of them. Why? It all came around again to the great big why and what he was going to do with it. So far, it hadn’t been much.</p>
<p>Lisa’s fake, vicious words came back into his head for the tenth time that day, joined up with the tallies of the survivors, the dead, and the missing. Dean had survived. Screw the fact that he wasn’t back to 110% just yet, he needed to do something with the fact that he was alive after the whole ordeal. He was fine to do research, drive a car, grab groceries, and all of that. Taking down a ghost, or hell even being backup if needed, he could do that. Making sure other people stayed alive was definitely something he could swing, he just had to get Sam and Cas on board.</p>
<p>He took another moment to himself to process, as if that would really help, before he got out and grabbed all the bags to take down with him to the kitchen. Apparently his processing skills were quite evident on his face because as soon as he walked in, both Cas and Sam looked at him, their expressions morphing from light amusement in whatever they’d been talking about to apparent worry.</p>
<p>“How…how’d shopping go?” Sam asked, almost carefully as Dean set the bags down on the counter and started to go through them. Things were always easier to go over when he had something to do with his hands, and putting away groceries was a perfect mindless task to do so with.</p>
<p>“Almost got run over by like five old ladies in the cereal section, they didn’t put on their blinkers,” Dean replied with a deadpan sense of humor that was lacking in most of the humor.</p>
<p>“Shopping carts don’t have…” Cas cut himself off, puzzled. “Dean, what happened?”</p>
<p>Dean paused for a second and sighed, taking an extreme amount of interest in a package of mixed greens he’d picked up for Sam and Sam only before he went to put them away. “They found the wreckage,” he said simply. There was no use for Cas or Sam to ask what he was talking about, it was all understood without further explanation and it was silent until Dean spoke again. “It’s all over the stations, weather or something stopped them from getting to it this long. Over a hundred and fifty people are dead or missing, but they said they’d keep people posted.” The last sentence was annunciated more harshly and the fridge door was closed just hard enough to make a few of the contents rattle.</p>
<p>“Dean, that’s not—there’s nothing you could’ve done,” Sam tried, his eyebrows coming together a bit as he broke the silence.</p>
<p>“I know that, not saying there was anything I could’ve,” Dean replied, not looking up from the items in his grasp before he put them away.</p>
<p>“Then…it sucks and it’s awful…” Sam started, seemingly trying to find the right way to phrase it. “Why, aside from the obvious, has it got you wound so tight?” There was nothing in his voice but genuine desire to find the problem, squash it, and help Dean move on. There was no judging for Dean worrying over the deaths of many people he had been on the same plane with. Sam got it, as much as he was able to, Dean could tell, but he didn’t want his older brother worrying about a past event when he didn’t have to, especially one that had changed all of their lives so, so much. He just wanted to understand, he didn’t have to put it into words for Dean to get, and judging by Cas’ expression, the angel was thinking much of the same thing.</p>
<p>“I survived,” Dean said and pointed to himself as he looked at both of them, “haven’t done much with it, have I?”</p>
<p>Cas tilted his head and gave Dean a questioning look. “Dean, you were in a coma and diagnosed with a serious neurological condition that you are lucky to have survived. Living past it all is ‘doing much’ in many people’s books,” he said, not seeing the point Dean was trying to make.</p>
<p>Sam on the other hand, which Dean had suspected, saw through it to the meaning beneath his brother’s words. “In terms of surviving or…in terms of hunting?” Dean’s lack of an answer gave Sam the one he needed and he shook his head. “Dean, we can’t keep coming around to this, you know how Cas and I stand on it, this isn’t up for a debate, even the doctors agree.”</p>
<p>“What, so I’m supposed to do nothing with the rest of my life that I get to live because I was lucky and got rescued in time?”</p>
<p>“Dean, that’s not—it’s not a permanent thing, you know that.”</p>
<p>“Do we? What if this,” Dean pointed to his head, “never gets any better? I’m supposed to sideline the two of us forever because I can’t help save lives without risking my own? The job’s the same, risking our lives to save others, that hasn’t changed.”</p>
<p>“The circumstances, and the risks that go along with them, are greater,” Cas brought up, which Sam nodded in agreement with.</p>
<p>“So? I’ve got another shot here to help save people, the one thing I’m good at, and the only thing I’ve been doing is watching Netflix and working on the car. It ain’t exactly a fulfilling second shot.”</p>
<p>“And the amnesia? The headaches, the memories, the nightmares? Not to mention you’re not sleeping well, which is saying something, even for us.” Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. “If you were to go on a hunt, if, you’d already be going in knowing you weren't a hundred percent, and you know how dangerous that could be, Dean, for everyone.”</p>
<p>Dean opened his mouth to argue back, but Sam held his hand up. “This, lying low, working through things, getting better, yeah it takes time and it’s boring and it sucks, but it keeps us safe. And when you’re ready to go back in, you’re ready to go all the way back in and do the job right.”</p>
<p>“There’s people out there that need help that aren’t getting it because my head isn’t totally screwed on right. It’s not fair to them.”</p>
<p>“You’re right, it’s not, but people die every day, Dean, we can’t save everyone, no matter how hard we try. Cas and I, we look up cases and send them around, whatever ones come our way, we try to get them dealt with. We do what we can. With everything we’ve done, the world will keep spinning if we take a month or two to catch our breath for the first time in over a decade.”</p>
<p>“All the cases?”</p>
<p>“All the…?” Sam looked at him, confused.</p>
<p>“Do you guys catch all the cases floating around?”</p>
<p>“The majority of them we try to, but it’s impossible to catch every single article,” Cas chimed in.</p>
<p>“So I’m guessing you saw the one then about the people spontaneously getting set on fire by mundane, supposedly harmless accidents, right? The one that’s happening half an hour from us at this very moment?”</p>
<p>“Dean-“</p>
<p>“It’s a milk run, Sam, it’s all in the article. Literally everything. It’s a ghost, tied to something, killing the people that made it a ghost in the first place.”</p>
<p>“Milk runs, as you and Sam define them, historically have a tendency to not be as easy as you hope,” Cas brought up, and Dean shot him a glare.</p>
<p>“Half an hour, Sam. We find what it’s tied to, burn it, done, lives saved and we’re home in time to watch the game.” Dean continued, not phased by the angel’s decent point. So even in later years, ‘milk runs’ hadn’t gotten any easier, good to know. They really needed another term for that.</p>
<p>“We’ll put someone else on it,” Sam said, still not budging.</p>
<p>“No one’s as close to us, and you know it. Some of these soon to be victims, from what I can tell at least, Sam, some of them have families. Kids. And this spirit’s a nasty one, it’s not waiting on a hunter from another state to show up before it stops its spree for vengeance. Hell, we don’t even need fed suits and interviews, everything’s in the articles, cut and dry.”</p>
<p>Sam visibly clenched his jaw, not happy with where this was headed. Both sides made sense, it just depended which side they were standing on. But someone needed to take care of the spirit, that was something all parties agreed on. “Fine, Cas and I will go check it out,” he shot back, figuring that maybe that would be enough, but Dean shook his head. “No, no, you aren’t coming.”</p>
<p>“Sam, come on. No field work, huh? Research, that’s it, let me at least think I’m helping? Make sure you guys get the right house and remember the salt and all that. On the off chance anything happens, I need to be close by,” Dean pitched with a tilt of his head.</p>
<p>Sam didn’t say anything for a minute, and when he did, it was quiet and almost pleading. “Right, and you’re going to stay in the car while Cas and I dispatch this thing?”</p>
<p>Dean took a second to reply. “Fine, if that’s what gets us moving, then fine. Sideline me from the physical stuff, but we need to get a move on,” he tapped the kitchen counter, ready to go before either one of them changed their minds about him coming along in the first place.</p>
<p>Sam, however, stepped in front of him before he could move any further and put a hand up. “I’m serious here, man, no barging in to save the day, you know the risks. I’m sick of hospitals.” It wasn’t said lightly, and based on Sam’s gaze, it wasn’t meant to be taken lightly either.</p>
<p><em>I’m sick of hospitals and watching you almost die, </em>of course, was understood by both parties involved.</p>
<p>“I’ve had more hunting experience than you remember, Dean, Sam and I can handle it, I would advise you to listen to him and take his request seriously.” So Cas wasn’t messing around either then. The unspoken thing went for both of them.</p>
<p>“Research, hang back, got it. Get your feet wet first before you cannonball, right?” While Cas didn’t seem to totally get the analogy, Sam eventually nodded, though he didn’t seem happy about the whole thing.</p>
<p>“Cas, you mind getting the laptops?” he asked, to which the angel acquiesced and exited the kitchen, leaving the brothers alone.</p>
<p>“Sam, I know you don’t like this, but more eyes are always better, and it’s a matter of time.”</p>
<p>“You’re right, I don’t like this,” Sam said seriously, his face bordering on a frown. “And I get it, you want to get back out there and help people, but you’re playing wounded, man.” He held up a hand as Dean opened his mouth to argue back. “Just…stay in the car, no matter what happens, I mean it, alright? If this thing goes well, maybe we’ll head out more, maybe.”</p>
<p>The frown had faded from his face, instead replaced with an expression of slight worry, one that Dean didn’t necessarily like seeing, but he had to get back on the horse some time.</p>
<p>“And…whatever happens, if this turns out to be another milk run,” Sam actually sighed at the name, “be careful, alright?”</p>
<p>“I will, Sammy,” Dean assured, as if he had any control over the matter. After a beat of silence, he too nodded. “We’re burning daylight, let’s get a move on, I’ll fill you in on the way.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies for the chapter being a day late! I've had my university finals this entire week, so that's where all my brain power has been going, and the update slipped through the cracks. But we're heading into the last arc of the story now, so I hope you guys are enjoying! Thanks for reading, as always :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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